Uh….Fox? First you put a friggin baseball game over The X Factor, and NOW you move X Factor to Sunday on top of DEXTER?!?!?! Whoever is making the decisions up there needs to choke on a pickle and croak. To make matters worse, for some reason it is impossible to record The X Factor on the DVR. It gets all f-cked up. Looks like we’ll be watching The X Factor in real time, and watching Dexter immediately afterward. Sigh. Difficulties.
Last night before bed, my dog failed to take a dump. Meh, he’ll go in the morning, I shrugged. This morning when I took him out to do his business, he trotted to the end of the porch, realized it was pouring rain and gusting wind, and turned right around and marched back to the front door. I did manage to convince him to at least face the rain for a quick minute to take a pee, but he galloped back to the front door as fast as he could to get out of the driving rain (he’s a diva). Skipping two typical times to poop was unusual, but I figured he could wait until I got home after lunchtime to pinch one off.
My day dragged on, and by the time I finished my tasks at the office and ran to Wal-Mart to get some groceries, it was already 3:45 before I made it home. Trent had beat me there by no more than a minute. The front door opened, and out bounded Raleigh, followed by a displeased looking Trent. “Why don’t you go look at what your dog did,” he said distastefully.
I walked inside the apartment, stepping into the kitchen with a direct view into the living room. Trent’s birthday is on Monday, so there is a nice pile of festively wrapped birthday presents in the corner of the living room. They were all from me, except one. Looks like Raleigh left a “present” of his own. Directly next to the pile of presents was a big steaming pile of runny shit. Poor Raleigh had held his poop in for 18 hours longer than usual, and just couldn’t hold it any longer. When I didn’t get home until late afternoon, he had no choice but to let hell break loose on the living room carpet.
It was a bad one, too. Not just a tidy little dog log. This was a sloppy pile of mushy dog poo. Not ideal.
Anyway, that was my Friday afternoon.
Sorry about how gross that dog shit picture is by the way. Look how shiny it is.
While I was at Wal-Mart today, I paused at a shelf at the end of the pet aisle and investigated this product:
“It’s a rain coat…..it’s a bandana…..it’s a…..rain bandana.”
…Is this the best they could do? That’s not even clever. They didn’t even give it a creative name. It’s meat…..it’s a loaf…..it’s a…..meatloaf.
Is anyone really going to buy their animal a rain coat? Is any animal actually going to wear a rain coat? I know my dog is a pussy about the precipitation, but I’m not about to slap a raincoat on him before he scurries outside to tinkle.
Well, that’s enough blasphemy for today I think. Time to bury my face in a million baked goods, compliments of my mother.
“R is the most menacing of sounds. That’s why they call it MUR-der, and not muckduck.”