Life & Love & Lessons Learned

Why My Dog is an A**

So I started to think about the past few days of blog posts, and man, they’re sad right? Between my Papa passing 7 years ago today, and 9/11 yesterday…I think y’all need to hear about something that I purposely didn’t write about. Because it’s gross. And I don’t like gross.

My dog, if you’ve been reading my blog, has been a complete a**hole. (mom, the asterisks are for you because I know you don’t like cursing)

No other word describes him lately. We’ve had him for three years, and he’s as cute as a button; combination beagle and terrier. As far as dogs go, he’s typically a good boy. But lately, I think he’s been pissed at me. And what is the #1 way a dog shows his pissed-offedness? Chewing up your shoes? Nope. Tearing the toilet paper from the roll and running with it throughout the house? Wrong.

My pup decides to take a smoosh, a load, a dump…there’s no politically correct word for it, really. The first time, I was heading up the stairs to my bedroom, walking with the light off, barefoot – and stepped right in it. Jerk move, dog, jerk move.

The second time, it was on the deck, and not only on the deck, but smack dab on the gorgeous coral & yellow floral rug I’d just put down. (are you starting to see why I call him an a**hole?)

But this…this last time – this was especially harsh. This was personal. I mean, c’mon, we were sitting together on the couch. I never let him sit on the couch. It was an olive branch, damn it. I was even petting him.

Next thing I know, he’s circling, like he was trying to find a more comfortable spot. I even moved the pillow for him to give him more room!  After a minute of looking confused, he finally laid down. On me. And that’s when I noticed it. On me! On friggin’ ME!

I was frozen. I mean, what the heck do you do in a moment like that? Besides, of course, strip down to your underwear, and throw away your clothes?

I yelled at the dog, and opened the back door for him to go outside. And when he didn’t immediately jump up, I opened the screen door, stepped out onto the deck, (yes, still in my undies), and called for him again.

And then he got up, jumped off the couch and onto the hardwood floor. He cocked his head and looked at me, holding the screen door open. I’m like, “C’mon! Out!” and perhaps even a few expletives were peppered in.  And he sat there for another moment, defiant.  “C’mon!” I said again. I mean, I’m standing there, on my deck, in my bra & panties, people!

My pup responded…slowly nudging his head against the glass of the back door.

And closed it.



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