I have a crazy fucking dog. He weighs twenty pounds and is some terrier mix. He is cute enough, but he has some bad blood in him. We got him at the pound. It figures that the first dog I wanted was the most neurotic and idiosyncratic dog ever. He likes to chew on used tampons. He loves all used paper product; the softer the better.
My dog hates men. My dog hates loud noises. My dog hates skateboarders. One time I was walking my dog and he broke free from his leash and ran after a back-hoe. He tossed himself at it with gnarling teeth and bounced off the giant wheel. He returned frustrated, but just as angry. He goes crazy when we aren't around, yet will try and bite me in the face if I move him off my pillow.
He hates other dogs. He once attacked a dog and made the owner fall. She said, "What's wrong with you people?" I went from apologetic to angry. "You people?" I said like Spike Lee. Every time I walk my god, which is everyday, he freaks out and acts like he has been interred in a doggy prison camp for years. He yelps, jumps, contorts, moans, and paws. He knew how to shake for three years, but I did not discover this until a friend used the word paw instead of shake. He has a discriminating vocabulary.
I have a special leash for my dog. Otherwise, he will pull like he is taking a fucking wagon train to Oregon and he wants to make it in less than a month. He once got free while visiting family, and returned only with a puff of Collie hair in his mouth. He won't eat unless we are home. He likes to take one piece of food and bring it into the room we are in, eat it there, and then return for more.
He peed all over the shitty carpeting we had on our floors. The other day I got home and he was eating holiday chocolates. It took me an hour to find his stash. He had hidden them neatly under a seat, and had decided to eat each one individually.
He is not groomed because he will bite my face off. I bath him, but he can only take so much before he snarls and heads for the door. He likes to sleep on my legs at night, so if I move, he can run right up and take my place next to my wife. He is dominant. When we drive in the car, he won't stay in the back seat. He slowly tries to squeeze his way up front. He tries to tunnel to the front seat from beneath. He bit the local Cesar Milan guy in the face.
The veteranarian says my dog likes histroniocs. He must be muzzled. He takes himself very seriously on walks, which embarrasses me, because I do not take myself seriously at all. I wish I could tell him that he looks foolish and earnest, but he would not care. He was probably abused. They had named him Shrek when we found him. Shrek is apparently an ogre. We changed his name.
I love my dog. I would want nothing to happen to him. But he is an outward manifestation of all the neuroses inside of me. It is like watching my mind prance uncontrollably around the house. Sometimes I like it when he stays under the bed.
Lastly, do not tell me that it is my fault. I know it is. I am a horrible owner. But my dog has special needs. If he was in school, he would be in special classes and require an attendant at all times. He would smoke in the bathroom and beat up bullies that picked on nerds. There is more to tell about my dog, but that is enough for now.