Sprocket the Vicious Pit Shih-Tzu was starting to smell a wee bit gamey, so tonight when I got home I drew his bath and gave him a good scrubbing. He was remarkably well-behaved during the torture, which should have been a clue right there. I got him washed, conditioned, rinsed and toweled off; he was then released to run free while I went to the kitchen for treats, his reward for being such a good boy.
He raced from the bathroom through the den, through the kitchen and around the corner to the room where his puppy pee-pads are laid out. He's housebroken, but I always leave out the puppy pads in case I get hung up at work or stuck in traffic - I don't want him sitting at home in agony, back paws crossed, thinking, "DAMN! Isn't she EVER going to come home?!? Doesn't she know my bladder is, like, the size of a walnut?!?" We also need the pads for when it's raining; he will look out the door at the pouring rain and look back at me like, "You HAVE to be kidding!" So anyway, post-ablutions, he ran straight to the spot where I had his puppy pad and put a HUGE GINORMOUS GALLON OF WIDDLE exactly six inches to the left of the edge of the pad. When I yelled his name, he then ran quite purposely THROUGH THE PUDDLE OF WIDDLE and tracked wet paw prints of wee all over the hardwood floors, indistinguishable from the wet paw prints of clean bathwater he'd left moments ago, ensuring that I had to Swiffer four rooms and the hall in their entirety, and go behind that with Clorox wipes (it was widdle, after all).
It was unmistakably a doggy 'eff you', his indignation "as clear as an azure sky of deepest summer". Or to put it less poetically, in the words of Sprocket himself, "If I had a middle finger, you'd be seein' it, Red!"
He raced from the bathroom through the den, through the kitchen and around the corner to the room where his puppy pee-pads are laid out. He's housebroken, but I always leave out the puppy pads in case I get hung up at work or stuck in traffic - I don't want him sitting at home in agony, back paws crossed, thinking, "DAMN! Isn't she EVER going to come home?!? Doesn't she know my bladder is, like, the size of a walnut?!?" We also need the pads for when it's raining; he will look out the door at the pouring rain and look back at me like, "You HAVE to be kidding!" So anyway, post-ablutions, he ran straight to the spot where I had his puppy pad and put a HUGE GINORMOUS GALLON OF WIDDLE exactly six inches to the left of the edge of the pad. When I yelled his name, he then ran quite purposely THROUGH THE PUDDLE OF WIDDLE and tracked wet paw prints of wee all over the hardwood floors, indistinguishable from the wet paw prints of clean bathwater he'd left moments ago, ensuring that I had to Swiffer four rooms and the hall in their entirety, and go behind that with Clorox wipes (it was widdle, after all).
It was unmistakably a doggy 'eff you', his indignation "as clear as an azure sky of deepest summer". Or to put it less poetically, in the words of Sprocket himself, "If I had a middle finger, you'd be seein' it, Red!"
3 Comments:
hahahaha! It must be a shit-zhu thing. Hershey HATES getting a bath. She suffers through them with a "Woe is me" look, like we're subjecting her to medieval torture devices.
And when it's raining, she gives you this look like, "Are you serious? You think I'm getting my coat and paws wet? Hahahaha!"
By
A Margarita, at 10:13 AM
Ha! He showed you!
It reminds me of the time Matilda was mad at me for not paying attention to her, and she stepped onto the brandnew futon, waited till she had eye contact with me, then squatted and peed.
By
Anonymous Me, at 9:12 PM
It's the look, isn't it? -- the look that says they didn't forget or make a mistake or have an accident, but rather want to make absolutely sure you know they're doing it deliberately.
By
Helly, at 10:58 AM
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