You know that bumper sticker. The one that says something about being the god your dog thinks you are? Yeah. Well. They got it wrong. It should have been something more like:
Lord, please help me NOT to be the asshole my dog thinks I am.
This morning I was trying to wrap up some work on the computer before heading into my other job. The garbage men were outside, and like clockwork, the dogs morphed into Cujo. Flesh-eating, rabbid, foaming at the mouth - Cujos. And its annoying. And distracting. And the cacaphony of it all crawls under my skin and up into the veins in my neck and I am lucky I don't die on the spot of a ruptured blood vessel. Where the dogs would probably EAT ME.
I can't help but think every single time GET OVER IT ALREADY! DONT YOU REMEMBER 'THEY' CAME YESTERDAY? And the day before...and the day before that....These are smart dogs. These dogs practically feed themselves. They play frisbee in the backyard. They fetch us beers from the fridge. They complain when their water isn't chilled. I don't buy it.
So I yell. Loudly. The kind with spray. The kind that makes you feel like you are one step from the edge. I yell at the top of my lungs from the opposite end of the house...
SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP!!!
*I may need to work on that one when children arrive...
And they do. For a second. But they just can't help themselves and ALWAYS have to throw in an extra seething crazed bark for good measure. Or just to piss me off.
And as we pass eachother in the hallway, we exchange a look - and its not a look of 'DAMN IT...I am so sorry! I need to work on this issue. I know better. It won't happen again....I am a very bad dog.", its more of a "Hey ASSHOLE, why don't you shut the fuck up!" kind of look.
Especially the little dog. I think she's plotting to overthrow me. In this scenario - I wish they would both turn into cats.
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