A Mistakenly Identified Chew Toy

I feel the need to complain about something.

You see, back when I was a younger pup, I did some things that I now feel were quite immature, and of which I now wish there was no record.

Take a look at this:

This? This is what a puppy brain hyped on rawhides thinks is a good idea to chew up.
If you're wondering exactly what this is, it's Sarah's cell phone cover. Back as a younger puppy, I mistook this for a toy, and as a result, it looks like something the dog chewed up (because, you know, it is something that the dog chewed up). Now, as you know if you read this blog regularly, I would normally not only find the chewed up cell phone cover to be OK, but actually something awesome, as it makes Sarah quite angry. However, that's just not the case here.

You see, a normal person would see this, and throw it away. Sarah? Not a normal person. Instead of throwing away the cover, Sarah kept the thing and is still using it, even though I chewed it up over a year ago! Even worse, Sarah got this for free, so it's not like she paid a bajillion dollars for it and somehow feels obligated to keep it because of its cost.

And the worst part? People are always giving Sarah strange looks about the cover, and asking her about it. And you know who she blames for this? ME! It's so wrong - I mean, Sarah is the one who insists on carrying around an old and busted cell phone cover, when it would be super easy to go get a new one. Sarah should get the blame here, not me. But, as usual, I'm the one who gets the short end of the stick.

I Am Not a Monkey

Sarah operates under the misguided notion that I am a creature put on this planet solely for her amusement. Of course, only she thinks of it as "amusement" - I tend to categorize what she considers amusing as humiliation, degradation, great indignities, or some combination of the three.

Take one of her winter projects, which was to teach me to catch a Frisbee. Now, on the one hand, I really don't want to learn to catch a Frisbee. I mean, it's just humiliating on so many levels. It's like she wants me to be her trained monkey, and do whatever she wants me to, whenever she wants me to. That? Not cool. Not cool at all.

On the other hand, if I don't do the trick, it suggests to Sarah that I'm stupid, and unable to learn the absolutely inane things that she wants me to do. The last thing I want is for Sarah to think is that I'm stupid, because, obviously, I'm not (unlike Sarah, who does so many stupid things on a daily basis that she could have a blog devoted entirely to the subject: "Stupid Things Sarah Did Today." A stupid name for a stupid person).

It's quite the conundrum, actually. Do Something Degrading vs. Looking Smart. Ultimately, I chose looking smart. I mean, catching a Frisbee is SOOO easy. It took me, like, no time to become pretty decent at it.

What I didn't count on was that Sarah would put evidence of my humiliation on the internet, for the whole world to see:



Of course Sarah would humiliate me by putting this on the internet. I should have known better.

But I do have one trump card that's not in the video. Even though I look all nice and obedient, I refused to give Sarah the Frisbee back. So, while I do catch the Frisbee all nice, I proceeded to run around the yard and chew on it, preventing Sarah from throwing it again and humiliating me further.

I'm calling this one even. But next time, I'm figuring out a way to get the upper hand.

Success!!!

So, I started feeling better sometime yesterday afternoon. It's a good thing, too, because Sarah (the asshole) got home from work and left her flip-flops lying around in the front hall, and then she went upstairs to do God knows what (though, if I had to guess, whatever she was doing probably had something to do with making my life as miserable as possible). Having the perfect opportunity to complete my previously plotted destruction of the flip-flops/dog toys, I took full advantage:

As you can see, the front, toe separator is no longer attached to the rest of the flip-flop. As I bit off the connector, it can't be reattached. Success!!!

Deviously, I only went after one. This doubly pisses off Sarah, because she's cheap and hates to get rid of something perfectly useful, which the non-destroyed flip-flop still is. So, so satisfying.

To end, I will quote that lyrical poet, Ice Cube: "I can't believe - today was a good day."

That's Not a Shoe, It's a Toy

Sarah (the asshole) is always throwing a fit when I grab the best toy in the house:


You know what I have to say about this? If it's made out of colorful plastic rubbery crap, it's not a shoe, it's a dog toy.

Normally, Sarah wears stiletto heels wherever she goes. And I mean everywhere. She has climbed a rock wall in them and pitched a tent on a camping trip in them. Yes, a fucking tent. In heels. I can't believe this is who I have to put up with on a daily basis.

That said, I have no trouble with high heels. Those are real shoes, unlike those flip-flops. But here's the problem - Sarah never takes me out for walks in heels. Nope, I only get to go on walks with her while she wears these disgusting dog toys on her feet. Something about me not walking well enough on a leash yet to take me on a walk and risk having her fall on her ass while she is in her heels (Haha! That would be hilarious! It might be worth walking better on the leash solely to act up the moment Sarah decides to walk me in her heels). So, I have to walk next to her while she looks like a dumbass in her dog toy flip-flops.

God, I have to get my teeth on those again. They need to be destroyed.