Rain Rain Go Away (And Take My Raincoat With You)

Yesterday, in a rare fit of treating me well, Sarah took me to the pet store and bought me not only a bag of treats, but a new toy as well (which, now that I remember, I still haven't properly destroyed - I guess I have a plan for the day!). Unfortunately, with Sarah, no trip to the pet store is complete without the purchase of something humiliating for me. Yesterday, it was a raincoat. Now, I figured I had at least a couple weeks before it rained here and I was forced to endure this latest humiliation.

I was wrong. This morning, it rained.

The fact that the coat is not pink is only a small consolation to me.

Having purchased the coat only yesterday, it goes without saying that Sarah heard the pitter patter of rain on the roof this morning and leaped out of bed, giddy as a kid on the first day of summer, in anticipation of my impending torture.

Next time, I vote that we skip the walk in the rain entirely. I have a backyard; I can take care of business there.

I guess there is a little comfort to be had in the fact that no one else was out walking their dogs in the rain this morning, so (as far as I know) none of the other dogs in the neighborhood saw me in this get up. Unfortunately, I may not be as lucky next time. Because you know there will be a next time with this.

Cold, Cold, Cold!

It has been VERY cold here in Indiana recently. Now, I've got a fur coat, so I don't mind a little cold every now and then, but it has gotten absurd. There should not be minus signs in front of the temperature, ever! And, as it's Fahrenheit, you know it's cold when there is a minus sign!

You'd think that, because it's so darn cold here, that Sarah would be happy to sit under the blankets in bed, or wrapped up in a Snuggie on the couch. But no, of course she isn't. Nope, she had to find something to dress me up in, as if the fur coat is not enough in her mind.

She has put me in the scarf before, but the hat is new. Frankly, I would prefer not having to deal with either.

Now, I usually enjoy going to Wisconsin, but it is MUCH colder there than where I live. So I would be perfectly happy to chill here in Terre Haute. However, Sarah is never content to leave well enough alone, so of course she is planning to take me to Wisconsin next week. I wish she would make plans to take me somewhere warm instead. I'm sure my grandparents would understand.

A Tornado? Seriously?

OK, so, Sarah (the asshole) took me to Wisconsin for the 4th of July weekend, which was, obviously, awesome. Dog park, lots of people to pester for food, cats to chase up trees, and three straight days where I could avoid Sarah to my heart's content.

Unfortunately, something this awesome could not possibly last (at least, not as long as Sarah is in charge). So, today, Sarah packed up the car and we headed back to Terre Haute. Now, usually, I just pretty much sleep for the entire car ride home. I mean, what the hell does Sarah expect me to do for those five hours? Stare out the window at corn? B-O-R-I-N-G! At least if I am sleeping, I might have an interesting dream where I get to lock Sarah up in the crate at night, and I get to sleep on the comfy bed instead.

Today, though, just for shits and giggles, Sarah decided to liven up the trip home - by DRIVING THROUGH A FUCKING TORNADO. Yes. Seriously. A fucking tornado. Don't believe me? Well, like the dumbass she is, Sarah stopped (after we had driven past the thing) and took a picture:



Of course, being a dumbass, Sarah didn't realize she was driving us through a tornado until after we were past it. Because, you know, the fact that every other car was pulled over to the side of the road wasn't a clue to her. Or, you know, that funnel thing in the sky didn't give her the slightest indication that something was amiss. In case I didn't already suspect that Sarah was trying to kill me, this would confirm it.

I Do Not Need Another Nickname

So, for those who are not aware, Sarah (the asshole) got me right after a trip to New Orleans. Rather than give me a nice, normal dog name, she decided to name me "Tchoupitoulas." Yeah, it's stupid, but what can you do? Until they have name change court for dogs, I'm stuck. Plus, it's not like Sarah is going to call me by a four syllable name every time she yells at me, so I am "Choppy."

Actually, I don't really mind "Choppy," which is what everyone calls me. I mean, seriously, it sounds kind of bad ass. Like, I might take a bite out of you. Or something to do with motorcycles. Or I like to make illegal football blocks on you. Unfortunately, Sarah is not content to call me Choppy, so I get a whole host of other names.

If it's not Choppy, I get "Pork Chop" and "Chop Suey." Yes, asshole, I realize that I am fat, I don't need you to remind me with a nickname that involves food. And Chopster, which is stupid, too, but at least it doesn't imply that I eat a lot (even if that is the case).

This morning, though, the asshole came up with a new one: Sir Shits-A-Lot. Seriously??? Seriously???? Seriously?????

First, asshole, I'm a chick, not a mans. If anything, it should be Lady Shits-A-Lot.

Second, just because I took two craps in the house this morning (and one outside) does not mean that I deserve this nickname. I mean, seriously, it was raining and craptastic outside this morning. Where the hell was I supposed to go? And it's not like three times is excessive, I'm sure Sarah goes at least that many times a day (she certainly spends enough time in there to poop three times).

On the plus side, I took two craps in the house, which really pissed Sarah off. It might be worth the nickname if I don't have to go outside to do my business.

Snow?! In April?!

Hey Mother Nature, I have something to tell you: Fuck you!


Seriously, Mother Nature, it's almost April, yet you saw fit to dump several inches of snow on me yesterday? Not fucking cool. So not fucking cool I refused to even look at the camera for a picture yesterday on my morning walk.

However, Mother Nature is not entirely to blame for this one. Unsurprisingly, most of the blame for this latest terrible incident in my life falls squarely on the shoulders of Sarah (the asshole). See, instead of staying home in Terre Haute, where the tulips are blooming and the weather is decent, Sarah decided I needed to join her in a trip to Chicago for the weekend to visit her siblings. Did it snow in Terre Haute? Of course not. Next time, I am staying home.