jeudi 10 février 2005

Au revoir, mon chien.

You might have wondered why I haven't talked about the stinky little brat (aka, Ben), in a long time. You want to know why?

Yeah, he looks all cute and adorable here. Don't judge a book by its cover.


Whoever said that having dogs is like having children is a BIG FAT LIAR. Children are not born crawling around. No, it takes them awhile to learn how to be mobile. You can strap diapers onto children until they learn how to pee in toilets. And very quickly, children learn common sense and when to listen to authority and all sorts of good things like that.

Looking cute again. Do NOT be fooled. He's probably plotting how best to attack me next.

DOGS DON'T. Especially this dog that we have, which is the meanest, most spiteful creature I've ever laid eyes on.

He refuses to be trained. Flat out refuses. He knows where to pee. As a matter of a fact, when we first got him, he was very good about peeing on his pee pad. However, now, he seems to think the apartment is his toilet.

He is also forever trying to get at my Achilles' tendons like it's his job to take me out, ankles first.

Look at him rest. It's probably because he's taking a break between apartment-destructing whirlwinds.

And if we leave him alone for more than ten minutes at a time, he gets destructive. Or even if we don't leave him alone and are trying to play with him, he's still a little menace. Dragging our scarves and socks and shoes all over the apartment. Peeing IN FRONT OF OUR BEDROOM DOORS when he's particularly peeved, which means that I always have to wear slippers inside the house now, as well as having to watch very carefully where I step. Ripping apart anything that can fit inside his mouth. Strewing the Spanish moss at the base of our indoor plants all over the damn place. Jumping up to SNATCH AWAY FOOD THAT IS EN ROUTE TO MY MOUTH out of my hand. Trying to sit on my head and eat my ears while I'm watching TV, whilst farting (and this small small dog produces the most noxious odors). Trying to bite my nose off. And his barking. Ohmygod his barking. It is SO LOUD and EAR PIERCING and he barks JUST FOR FUN.

Name something horrible this dog could've done, and the stinky little brat has done it.

And don't you dare tell me that it's because we don't pay enough attention to him and that he's just a puppy. Those excuses don't cut it anymore. We spend a ton of time with him; there is no reason for him to be acting like a horrible ungrateful wretch.

We can't even have people over anymore because the dog is such a terror. You think that running around with him will have him eventually run out of energy, which all of my friends have tried. "Oh, you just have to tire him out." No. It's actually a positive-feedback cycle, causing him to only become MORE excited and to run around MORE, until you're the one who's pooped out.

Really, I will miss how cute he is. But it ends at his looks. I will not miss stepping on all his toys when I stumble home drunk.

And so, my roommate is shipping Ben off to his sister in Arizona tomorrow. She requested the dog as her wedding present, even though he's told her that Ben is a royal pain in the ass. It's her problem now. He's out of my hands.

The next dog I get is going to be trained, dammit, and adoring and sweet and not a havoc-wreaker. I haven't the energy to deal with such a needy and spiteful little creature. There is room for only one needy person per household, and you're looking at her.

Old pictures of the little demon, if you're interested.