Stupid Dexter. Lately, he has been shamelessly eating my pre-worn underwear and it’s really starting to cheeze me off!
Yeah yeah, I know, it’s gross and a forbidden topic. But it’s also very frustrating and I am not afraid to complain about it out loud! I am a pretty tidy person, though I have been known to sometimes leave my dirty clothes in the laundry basket at the foot of the bed. So when Dexter stole my underwear from the basket I was like “oh, my bad” and made a point of putting my worn clothes in the hamper.
And then when he started taking them out of the hamper I was like “Alrighty then,” and went and got myself a hamper with a lid.
Now he OPENS the lid, goes into the hamper, carefully removes ONLY my underpants, and eats them. Now I’m like, mad. To add insult to injury, he likes to eat them ON MY BED where he knows he’s not supposed to even be.
Short of getting a wall safe for my lingerie, I’m thinking the only other reasonable option I have is to beat him to death with the laundry hamper.
And while we are on the topic of nether regions, if you will, Tweed has asked me to tell you that an on leash walk is the cocktease of exercise.
He’s feeling LOADS better, but somehow in the intervening weeks he lost certain faculties, such as the following commands: Heel; Side; With Me; and NO PULL YOU ASSHOLE I SAID NO PULL STOP PULLING STOP IT STOP IT!! Perhaps he left them in the crate – I’ll have to check. Meanwhile, my shoulder is killing me and I have rope burns on my hands.
And The Sadist called him FAT. Yeahwell, he hasn’t run in like 5 weeks now, and like a Jewish mother, I fed my guilt by feeding him food – stuffed Kongs, beef bones. You name it, he got it while he was in prison. He’s definitely gotten a titch portly. And he wants to run it off in the worst way. He has tried wiggling out of the leash, brute force, and at one point, threw himself on a passing Piper and tried to make a speedy getaway atop her back.
I may beat him to death with the laundry hamper also.
Yeah, well, you know what Tweed? That may not be half bad. We have been doing a lot of gamble work in class lately as part of our Regionals Prep, and by golly, Piper is starting to get it. She’s executing some very difficult gambles quite easily, which is mind blowing. And weaving like a hot damn, even at a distance. All our hard work is paying off in a big way. This time last year, if I had said I was putting Piper in Regionals, my friends would have started whistling and looking at the sky to avoid falling over laughing. Now they’re talking about how well they think she’ll place. It’s kinda of twilight zone-y.
*shakes fist at Dexter*
One of Wootie’s favourite places to run around hunting in is the big football field sized basin with the really tall grass. He knows I don’t really like trying to get down the steep hill to chase him, and I think he gets a perverse amusement seeing me holler from the dykes at him with no way to follow through on my colourful threats.
Whee! I look like I’m coming when called, but really I’m going to sproing enthusiastically over in your direction just long enough to give you hope, then I’m going to disappear in the grass and reappear 250 feet further away. Thanks for moving us to the sticks, Food Lady!
Until now, TWooie has been too nervous to go down there. Today, he overcame his fear. Now I have TWO dogs who run around disappearing and reappearing in the basin and ignoring my recall (which, btw, is WOOTWOO! since they are one-dog-same-dog and there is no point in calling them separately).