She is the devil.
She lulled us into a false sense of Nice Doggy after a few months of terror, so we let our guard down. Then she pooped on the dining room floor. Twice. In one day. WITH MALICE. Then because we'd learned to keep all food stuffs off the counter in an effort to squash her counter-surfing habit, she decided to take up a career in garbage can tipping and I came home to find disgusting bits of lettuce, coffee grounds, chicken packaging and DOOM strewn all over the kitchen, dining and living rooms. Twice. In two days. Then I bought one of those child-safety locks for an oven door and attached it to the now-thoroughly-dented-in-the-shape-of-dog-paws-garbage-can to prevent her from dumpster diving. Then she decided to counter surf again anyway, and she discovered a really old jar of fish food. A jar of fish food SO OLD that it had turned into a putrid, grayish brown liquid, which she chewed up and smeared all over her dog bed. After I took her for a walk. After she'd eaten dinner. WHILE I WAS SITTING IN THE OTHER ROOM. I cleaned it up as best I could, but when Gray came home, he discovered what he described as, "The most disgusting, rotten odor I've ever smelled in my entire life." Windows were opened. Cans of air freshener were emptied. The dog bed was thrown away. The garbage can which held the ruined goldfish food jar was taken outside and doused with the flames of hell.
He says the smell is ::almost:: gone now.
Today, we will be avenged.
The uterus of the devil is being removed. Is it wrong that I kind of hope they use a dull knife? And a weak anesthetic?
|Aww, look how cute I am! Come closer, let me STAB YOU WITH MY PITCH FORK.|