Enemy mine, you have vanquished me at last.

July 18, 2011

So you’re back. I thought I had rid myself of you forever. I should have known better. Being the dog of the anti-Christ, I was foolish to think anything other than you would be back, again, and again, and again.

I already knew you are immortal. Oh, I’ve never had the daring to try to do the deed myself. I am not that stupid. I well recall all the times you’ve walked away from experiences that would easily done in any other dog. Any normal dog. But of course you are not normal, and you rise again and again like some demented phoenix, instead of soaring to the sky, trotting jauntily off, wagging your deformed stump of a tail as if to say, “Nothing can harm me. I rule the world.”

Oh, you’ve have some close calls. Remember the heating pad cord? But you were young then, and perhaps had not come into your full powers. Electrocution hurt you, you cried, you pissed all over my bed, but it could not kill you.

How many times have I witnessed you take on cars and live to attack another day? Three times I have seen you jump the fence, dash at an oncoming vehicle that dared to trespass on your territory, which is everything in your vision. I have seen these behemoths of metal and rubber roll right over you, and you merely tumble out from underneath the crushing tires and shake yourself off. Was it one of these head-on encounters I missed that caused all your front teeth to break off at the gum line? Or did you do that to yourself, in order to make yourself appear even more evil, with your canines hanging down like vampire fangs any time you open your mouth? Maybe you did it to make sinking them into the flesh of anyone who displeases you easier.

And open your mouth you do, constantly. Your bark is an unceasing warning, a threat, and pronouncement to the world that it is yours and you will take down anyone who is insane enough to challenge your dominance. I’ve learned my lesson, after all the times you’ve tried to kill me. I bow to your will. I have no wish for further bruises, sprains, cuts, gouges, tears from being tripped, being pounced upon while I sleep, from being bitten when I try to impose my will on you. That day on the mountain was the end of the power struggle for me. You almost had me then. Hurtling head-long down the rocks and just barely escaping my own demise by grabbing that sapling growing out of the cliff face made me realize I could not best you. I’m sure my survival that day enraged you to no end.

Like a true deviant, you’ve dabbled in recreational drug use. The time you ate the other dog’s entire package of incontinent pills and staggered around with huge, glassy eyes, seeing the world from your freakishly distorted pupils. The rotten deer carcass you ran off to find in the woods, to drag back into the house through the dog door, and make yourself comfortable in my bed for a snack—Did you enjoy the ensuing convulsions? The week you spent at the vet getting more drugs via a needle in your arm? For you it was probably no different than a week at the spa.

Your hedonism knows no bounds. The cats all ran away to escape you pinning them to the floor and humping them. You seduced your own father. Thank goodness the result of that unholy union was stillborn. You hid your pregnancy well. No one suspected until the very moment you dropped the dead monster into the lap of my husband, your one true love.

Oh, yes, I know all about that. You’re aren’t very subtle, the way you growl at me if I sit too closely to him, worming yourself between us in the bed, pushing me further and further toward the edge. I’ve resigned myself to it. I cannot compete with you. You have stolen him completely. I can only look from across the room, as he coos at you and feeds you gourmet jelly beans and you gaze triumphantly at me with your evil little eyes.

I give up. I cannot escape you. I resign myself to your malevolent presence in my life, your hiking your leg—yes, you are probably the first female to figure out how to pee like a man–to mark everything I thought was mine as yours, yours, it’s all yours, everything, the whole world, and woe to anyone who tries to get in your way. I give up. You win.

{ 11 comments… read them below or add one }

Dude_WaitWhat July 18, 2011 at 4:58 pm

I don’t know, I think this is one of your best posts. It was clever and very funny. I am in awe, when I read you. How does someone get to be as funny as you? Good luck with that dreadful dog, who has obviously broken up your home, and marriage. Keep one eye open, when you sleep.


jacqui July 18, 2011 at 5:06 pm

I hate to see this evil bitch win. I really, really hate it.


Angie [A Whole Lot of Nothing] July 18, 2011 at 7:36 pm

She *looks* innocent enough.


Marianna Annadanna July 18, 2011 at 9:00 pm

Without that picture, who else could this be? Just curious.


Sarcasm in Action July 18, 2011 at 9:27 pm

check behind her ears for a 666 mark.
And be careful. Very very careful. It likely knows your thoughts….


Laura @ Eight Days Designs July 19, 2011 at 5:13 pm

I laughed so hard when i read this. Anyone who has ever owned dogs will completely understand this post. Bravo dear, you keep me laughing as always!


Lizbeth July 20, 2011 at 2:22 pm

I just dog sat for my sister, in a word: Dog Fail. That thing has to be related to yours. I was never so glad to give something back….


Carmen July 20, 2011 at 2:29 pm

**sigh** it’s as if your Jack is the sister of my Jack. I too bow down, it was a lose/lose for me


Crystal July 20, 2011 at 2:54 pm

I know what you mean. My hubby had a dog like that once, until she threw him over for someone else.

Awesome post!


Girlfriend July 30, 2011 at 6:35 pm

Do you think Bess is a death eater? She probably has a dark mark under her fur.


Tazer Warrior Princess August 29, 2011 at 6:26 pm

Oh my holy shitballs.

Cannot. Stop. Laughing.

I, too, live with destructive POS forces of nature. The only upside to mine is there’s no one else in the house to feed them, so they HAVE to be nice to me.


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