Thursday, September 02, 2004

I promise I don't beat my dog, really.

Ronin, the wonder puppy has struck again, and this time the authorities might need to get involved. Since I just started blogging, I haven't yet told the story of the time I took Ronin out for his morning stroll and he happened upon what must of been a rather enticing pile of dog shit (probably his own, but whatever, we don't judge). After throwing himself on the ground and rolling around with reckless abandon he decides that it's such a fun game, mommy needs to play (yes, i just referred to myself as mommy, disgusting aren't I?). It must have been a picture perfect moment when a couple of employees on their way to work at the local free paper (whose offices are located directly across the street from our house) stepped out of their cars just in time to watch me in my pajamas fending off a shit covered dog by smacking him with one of thier very own papers.

This all brings us up to Joy beating her dog in public part deux: Just an hour or so ago, the Ro-dawg had one of his intermittent peeing fits in the living room. While Pat cleaned up the mess I rushed the dog outside in my bare feet. After he finished relieving himself yet again, he seemed to forget that he was still on his leash because he then proceeded to take me for a ride around the muddy front yard, practically pulling me to my knees as a result of a lack of traction producing footgear. That is not cool. The only way to let him know this is not cool is to force him to sit, point at him fiercly and swat him on the behind. Okay, so i'm no dog trainer, and i'm sure there's a better way to handle this, but i was muddy and he had just pissed on one of our chair cusions. I'm sure it looked worse than it really was, but did the guy leaving work at the paper really have to stop his van in front of my house and lean his head out the window. Wracked with guilt, I could think of nothing else to say but, "I promise I don't beat my dog, really."

The incensed citizen just said "what?" and then drove away. Now I feel bad, and even after I discovered Ronin had eaten one of my newly knitted handwarmers, I didn't have the heart to be mad about it.


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