Sarah (the asshole) has returned from her trip to Notre Dame, and, unsurprisingly, my life has returned to craptastic-ness.
While Sarah was gone, I managed to get the carpet in the back room looking much better - lots of muddy paw prints, chewed up sticks ground into the carpet, etc. Definitely an improvement over its formerly cleanly state. However, it only took Sarah about ten seconds after getting home to pull out the vacuum cleaner and start vacuuming. Even worse, once she was done with that, she got out the steam cleaner and ran that. Seriously, asshole, do you know how long it takes me to get the carpet in that sort of order? It's going to take hours of backyard digging in the mud and searching for sticks to get it back in shape. I have better things to do with my life, especially because I'm pretty sure Sarah has a new pair of shoes somewhere that I have not even gotten close to.
But then, in a horrible turn of events, she took me to the vet AGAIN. How many fucking times a month do I need to go to the vet? It's not like I'm sick or anything. And, of course after getting a shot (probably done solely to piss me off, because I've already had about a million shots and I'm only four and a half months old), the vet went in with his shit scooper to get a sample. Seriously, what does he think he's going to find up there? It's not like I recently started shitting diamonds.
And you know what else? Puppy training is canceled tonight, so I don't even get that one small pleasure out of life. I'm sure Sarah is highly fucking amused by how craptastic my life is right now. Asshole.
Artie Gets a Puppy
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