Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Cruelty to Animals
One of my favorite pastimes is abusing my dog, Mocha. Mocha's a pit bull/lab (we think) mix. She has a bit of an attitude problem. Specifically, she likes to bite people and finds other dogs especially tasty. But if you ignore her attacking my friends and their pets, she's a great dog. Except for the puking and shitting in the house. Okay, maybe she's not so great after all. But she's fun to abuse, and that's got to count for something.
I like the normal dog abuse that other people enjoy. For example, I'll do the old hidden ball trick. Except, I like to finish it by hitting her in the head with it when she starts looking under the couch. If only I could hit her head consistently, because I wasn't Roger Clemens in little league. I was more like a less-svelt (and less-black) Cecil Fielder.
Another favorite torture method is to get the dog all excited and then play mind games. Yes, I know playing mind games with Mocha isn't quite the same as a chess match with Gary Kasparov, but it's more stimulating than my Cost Accounting class. Usually, what I do is stand at the top of the stairs and tell Mocha, "Downstairs!" She'll haul ass down the stairs and look up at me to see what's taking me so long. Then, of course, I call Mocha back upstairs. This goes on and on, with Mocha getting more and more excited every time. I think that if I kept it up for more than 10 minutes, she'd have an embolism. Unfortunately, The Wife likes to play Wet Blanket. (I think that should be her new nickname by the way. I'm not fond of The Wife. I don't like her web name, Elisette. I have to come up with something. Suggestions?) She usually tells me to stop because she's trying to sleep or something. The nerve of some people. Such Wet Blankets!
Anyway, today I scared the hell out of Mocha. I get home from class around 9:00 or 9:30. By that time Wet Blanket (I don't think I like this name either. Wet Blanket definitely won't like it.) is way asleep. And so is Mocha, who usually falls asleep on my side of the bed. Lately, Mocha's been sleeping pretty heavy (probably because she's getting about 5-6 cups of food a day thanks to our efforts at fattening her up and Luke's efforts at dropping everything from his high chair). So when I come home, she doesn't always wake up.
Well, I was in the office, writing my last blog post. I had to head downstairs to refresh my beer. Mocha heard me going down the stairs and followed me. I decided to hide in the pantry to see what she did. She stopped by her dog bowl to get a drink. I thought about jumping out from the pantry. Then I remembered how she likes to bite people and animals when she's scared. Ultimately, I thought it'd be worth a gaping wound to scare the crap out of her. So I jumped out and yelled "BAH!" She jumped about 2 feet making me laugh out loud.
And that's exactly what I needed today. Luke woke up at 3:45 this morning, so I got little sleep. Then I was busy on campus today with classes and meetings. Then after my last class, I was walking to my car, about a mile or so away. I was a little over halfway when I realized I'd forgotten my binder with all my class notes in them. Shit. I need that. So I had to turn around and go get it. Of course, the building was locked. Fortunately, one of the adjoining buildings wasn't and I was able to procure my shitty notes, which will really be of no help to me at all this semester. But at least now I have them back. Anyway, Mocha, I know that you're going to die a little earlier now because we're fattening you up and I'm trying to give you a heart attack. But thanks for putting a good ending on an otherwise miserable day.
I like the normal dog abuse that other people enjoy. For example, I'll do the old hidden ball trick. Except, I like to finish it by hitting her in the head with it when she starts looking under the couch. If only I could hit her head consistently, because I wasn't Roger Clemens in little league. I was more like a less-svelt (and less-black) Cecil Fielder.
Another favorite torture method is to get the dog all excited and then play mind games. Yes, I know playing mind games with Mocha isn't quite the same as a chess match with Gary Kasparov, but it's more stimulating than my Cost Accounting class. Usually, what I do is stand at the top of the stairs and tell Mocha, "Downstairs!" She'll haul ass down the stairs and look up at me to see what's taking me so long. Then, of course, I call Mocha back upstairs. This goes on and on, with Mocha getting more and more excited every time. I think that if I kept it up for more than 10 minutes, she'd have an embolism. Unfortunately, The Wife likes to play Wet Blanket. (I think that should be her new nickname by the way. I'm not fond of The Wife. I don't like her web name, Elisette. I have to come up with something. Suggestions?) She usually tells me to stop because she's trying to sleep or something. The nerve of some people. Such Wet Blankets!
Anyway, today I scared the hell out of Mocha. I get home from class around 9:00 or 9:30. By that time Wet Blanket (I don't think I like this name either. Wet Blanket definitely won't like it.) is way asleep. And so is Mocha, who usually falls asleep on my side of the bed. Lately, Mocha's been sleeping pretty heavy (probably because she's getting about 5-6 cups of food a day thanks to our efforts at fattening her up and Luke's efforts at dropping everything from his high chair). So when I come home, she doesn't always wake up.
Well, I was in the office, writing my last blog post. I had to head downstairs to refresh my beer. Mocha heard me going down the stairs and followed me. I decided to hide in the pantry to see what she did. She stopped by her dog bowl to get a drink. I thought about jumping out from the pantry. Then I remembered how she likes to bite people and animals when she's scared. Ultimately, I thought it'd be worth a gaping wound to scare the crap out of her. So I jumped out and yelled "BAH!" She jumped about 2 feet making me laugh out loud.
And that's exactly what I needed today. Luke woke up at 3:45 this morning, so I got little sleep. Then I was busy on campus today with classes and meetings. Then after my last class, I was walking to my car, about a mile or so away. I was a little over halfway when I realized I'd forgotten my binder with all my class notes in them. Shit. I need that. So I had to turn around and go get it. Of course, the building was locked. Fortunately, one of the adjoining buildings wasn't and I was able to procure my shitty notes, which will really be of no help to me at all this semester. But at least now I have them back. Anyway, Mocha, I know that you're going to die a little earlier now because we're fattening you up and I'm trying to give you a heart attack. But thanks for putting a good ending on an otherwise miserable day.
