May God have mercy on my dog’s soul.
Because I am going to chop his balls off.
For those of you that talk to me ever, you know how much I treasure the honeysuckle vine in my flower bed, the one plant I’ve managed to keep alive–and thriving–ever since I dropped $20 on it back in May. I planted other things, too, but my dogs never missed an opportunity to pee on them and/or dig them up. The “flower” bed is really more like a dirt pit that by the grace of God had one green thing in it. I had to install a 3 foot-tall wire fence around the the entire thing to keep them out. That didn’t always work, especially when there were toads involved, because my dogs are stone-cold obsessed with toads, and toads are stone-cold obsessed with my flower bed. But after each digging session, my honeysuckle vine was always spared.
It’s been a while since I’ve walked out my front door and beheld a mess of any kind over in my precious flower bed. But today, when Noah trotted inside with a wire fence around his neck, I knew.
I’ve never felt such murderous rage toward an animal before. Oh, wait, yes I have. Maybe it was the time Smokey and Darcy chewed up our living room carpet. Or the time they ate through a basket, or gobbled an entire box of crayons and crapped rainbows, or redecorated my house with massive amounts of fluff from the couch pillows. I’ve felt it all 500 times Smokey marked his territory on my furniture. And then of course, there was that $75.00 trip to the library to replace books that Noah had peed on.
Poor Noah. He probably thinks I changed his name to “Stupid-effing-dog-I-wish-you-were-dead”. Not very Godly, I know. Let me tell you, it’s not the worst thing I’ve said all afternoon. I screamed things that made Satan himself be all like, “Nice.”
I freaking hate that dog. And I wasn’t joking earlier, either. He’s totally getting neutered for this.