This weekend sucked even more than usual, because Sarah spent most of the weekend at home doing home improvement projects, and we didn't even get close to the pet store. For me, this means lots of time in the fucking crate. Sarah claims it's because she doesn't want me to get hurt while she does stuff, but I know better. She just doesn't want anything to do with me (I can't stress this enough: she is an asshole).
Eventually, after what seemed like eons in the crate, Sarah let me outside to see what she had been doing:
Turns out, the asshole had been tearing up the astroturf on her front porch. She seems to think it screamed "old people live here," but I was definitely in the "it's like bringing the toilet up to the porch" camp. Of course, it goes without saying that I lost this argument, and the astroturf came up (but not before I got one last urination out on the stuff).
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