I walked out on my porch and there is her dog freezing her short haired ass off on my porch. Walked over to her house and knocked even though it is nearly 11
pm because this is her fucking dog but she didn't answer. So I brought the goddamned dog in my house because who can leave a shivering dog
outside? It's 31 degrees.
Then she tried to get up on my couch. Uh. No. It's fabric and that is where all the unfolded clothes are today. And then she didn't listen to me when I told her to get down. Why don't dogs learn fucking English? So I had to pick her up and put her on the floor. Three times. Apparently, not allowing her on the couch is upsetting and she walked to the door.
But I can't send her back out there. She doesn't have enough goddamned fur and now she's all sad laying by the front door. The only blankets I have are afghans my mom crocheted for the kids when they were babies, all the others are in use and while I like the dog fine, she is not hand-crocheted afghan worthy. Apparently, my old ass peach table cloth is beneath her.
So now we've reached an impasse. She stares at me dismally by the front door and I wonder if she's going to shit on my floor, eat my tree and climb back up on my couch when I'm not looking.
And she's probably knocked up because I saw a dog getting busy with her yesterday. That would explain the sudden influx of random dogs roaming around here.
Then she tried to get up on my couch. Uh. No. It's fabric and that is where all the unfolded clothes are today. And then she didn't listen to me when I told her to get down. Why don't dogs learn fucking English? So I had to pick her up and put her on the floor. Three times. Apparently, not allowing her on the couch is upsetting and she walked to the door.
But I can't send her back out there. She doesn't have enough goddamned fur and now she's all sad laying by the front door. The only blankets I have are afghans my mom crocheted for the kids when they were babies, all the others are in use and while I like the dog fine, she is not hand-crocheted afghan worthy. Apparently, my old ass peach table cloth is beneath her.
So now we've reached an impasse. She stares at me dismally by the front door and I wonder if she's going to shit on my floor, eat my tree and climb back up on my couch when I'm not looking.
And she's probably knocked up because I saw a dog getting busy with her yesterday. That would explain the sudden influx of random dogs roaming around here.
