Boone the Dog and his Desperate Human

Keep all arms and legs inside
the couch at all times.

Dear dog,

I will not address you by your name because by now, a mere week and a half after meeting you, I have learned that any human sound that resembles your name arouses you from your nap and causes the gates of hell to spill open.  Aside from my sandals, three socks, my godson's toy, 3 plastic bags, 40 used tissues, 1 unused tampon, 2 pairs of underwear, and my hairbrush, this week you have also devoured any desire I once had to adopt a dog.  I used to be able to watch Wheel of Fortune without disruption, but now I have to not only fight for my own couch, but suffer through thirty minutes of licking and biting. I've now had to resort to partial blindness because every time I wear my glasses, for some reason, you can not resist licking the lenses.  I get it. You'd like me to never sit again; it's cool.  

Forget about me though.  I'm worried most about my 13-year old lab who is going to have a heart attack if you keep pouncing on her in her sleep.  Petting her is out of the question now, since she is covered from head to paw in your slobber, not to mention any other fluids you may be getting on her when I'm not looking.  So not only are you ruining my relationship with Pat Sajak, you are also putting a wedge between Misty and I.  Misty, if you're reading this, don't worry I'm going to let him loose in bear country as to not get blood on my own hands.  At this time, I should also thank you for not barking more than four times in the last ten years, because your step brother has a howl that makes me want to drive a fork into my temple.  

Dog, you have been alive for two years and haven't figured out the difference between daytime and nighttime.  I truly thought domesticated animals were more evolved than this.  Strangers in the dark: yes--bark.  Strangers in the day: calm the fuck down!  Trust me, I too am annoyed by all the wealthy neighbors having their lawns manicured and flowers planted, since my punishment for being the homeless, unemployed adult child is to prune and water the flowers every day.  This, however, does not mean I spend my day sitting perched on the back of the couch barking at strangers in nearby yards.  Don't you know where our yard is? Haven't you pissed on the entire perimeter by now?  I guess you left too much of it in the couch cushions to make it the whole way around.  

Which leads me to my last question.  HOW CAN YOU SHIT SO MANY TIMES A DAY? I know how much you're fed! I feed you!  On the doctor's orders you get two cups of food a day.  Now, I'm no scientist or mathematician, but I am pretty sure two cups of food and a peanut treat does not equal SIX GIANT SHITS.  Word problem:  If a dog goes on three walks a day and shits six times in six different yards, should Stephanie take him to the glue factory when his owner isn't home?  

Cut a poor human a break.
Woof,
Me

 


Please keep all arms and legs inside the sofa at all times