Jun 30, 2012

Meet my Asshole

This is my Asshole. No, that's not his real name, but I find myself calling him this more often than not. I think it's precious.  So Asshole was my first dog.  He is a frenchie, and we plucked him up a little over six years ago.  I love him to death.  I love him SO MUCH that I put up with all. of. his. shit. including the story I'm about to tell you. 

See....Asshole is getting older; he just turned 6 in January, and let's just say, older age isn't exactly slowing him down. Rather, he is turning into a cranky old man.  (FYI....frenchie's life span is around 8-10 years, hence the old man comments).
See the pic I took?  See how he won't look at me straight away, but yet judgingly glances out of his eyes?  That is his on guard stance. Ears slightly back; ready to attack if need be.
I know, he is adorable, and he really is......sometimes.  And that sometimes is when he decides to make a "bed" out our dirty clothes that didn't exactly make it into the hamper and he sleeps in a little closet.  And you are probably thinking, "Hey, TBAG!  Why don't you just be a good mom and buy him a dog bed?!?!"  Well my friends, I DID buy him a bed, many of them to be exact, but they have all been RUINED by Retard.  Retard just LOOOVES soft bedding like materials, but his story will be for another post.  This post is about Asshole's latest teeth snapping incident involving my finger.  So yesterday morning, I am dragging the two dogs down the street in an attempt to have them shit in someone else's lawn public property because I didn't bring a bag with me.  Yes, you read that right, and you can get over your judging.  I wake up at fucking 4:45 am every g.d. day to tend to these dogs and try to get myself out of the door by 6 and still look presentable for my fancy-ass job that doesn't even start until 8am but I have to take the train and that blows, but I digress. Shit could be worse.
So I am walking, la la la, along the road with the dogs and Asshole is all, "Oh, hey Ma....I'm going to stare off longingly at nothing because i think I have to poop.  *Long Pause* I tug the leash because this is getting ridiculous and I am losing precious minutes of not driving like a maniac to make the train. Now he starts his epic poo circling.  This is where he keeps his head in the same spot while circling his squatted ass in a circle around his head as if THIS IS THE ONLY ACCEPTABLE SPOT FOR CRAPPING.  And so it goes.  But wait.....what is this fucking thing NOT exiting Asshole's asshole?  I'm trying to get a good view from afar without looking like a weirdo.  Ahhh yes, a blad of grass.  Awesome, and he can't get it out. No worries.  "OK boys, let's get inside!  I have to clean up for Asshole."  Not something I want to do; but hey, I'd do anything for these guys.  So in we go.  I grab Asshole and put him in the bathroom, pet pet pet, then reach around with some TP to get 'er out.
Asshole's eyes become wide.  *Stop messing with my poop chute*  And what happens?
The pic is a day later, this morning to be exact, but that little fucker jumped up and raked his fucking needle teeth down my middle finger, bringing most of the skin around my nail with it.  I know it doesn't look that bad; but it fucking hurt.  And I don't like having my middle fingers out of commission.  You never know when you are going to need them in a pinch!
So you see.....Loving Mom's hands + Toilet Paper to clean grass out of asshole= Asshole biting my hand off.  Makes sense right?  I guess.  And this is by far the smallest amount of flesh he has torn off of both Bayou and I.  Bayou nearly lost his hand a few months ago when Asshole and Retard got into a lovely dog fight in our back yard.  Oh yea, did I mention our two dogs don't get along? No, no they don't.  They tolerate each other; but you gotta watch them at all times, but those nasty fights break out all the time.  Ok, ok, you are probably thinking we are running a circus; and that is probably true, but don't go calling Animal Control on this situation.  It's fine....it's not what I had hoped for , but we make it work.  And even though I wanted to drop kick Asshole across the room yesterday morning, I didn't, I just gave him the stink eye and walked away.  Very Mature.

How I am going to bring a child into this world; I have no clue. But we make it work, we always do. And we both get tired of the dog's antics on a weekly basis; but that's why Bayou and I are a team, we pick up each others slack when they are about to pull their hair out and start rocking in the corner.

More on Retard at another point; I'm off to take the dogs for a walk.  Retard is still lazily snoozing in his crate and Asshole is already on the rampage, tearing the filling out of an octopus toy.

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