It's times like these that I disown my children. Or I would had I any. You see, when the going gets rough and I'm at the end of my patience, all hair-pulling and hand-wringing, our dog becomes her dog. Sarah gets sole custody while I slink on over to the far side of the house and curse the day I ever agreed to bring that squatty, stubby, whiny little wiener dog up here to Chicago with us. Were we to have kids, it would be here, maybe down at the county jail, just before bailing out our troubled, rebellious son or daughter, I'd turn to Sarah and say, "There. That's your kid in there. Look what your spawn has done."
Anyway, that squatty, stubby, whiny little wiener dog of ours broke a foot last week. This was most likely due to her penchant for flinging herself off the bed at all hours of the day without regard for life and (obviously) limb despite recently reaching 13 years of age. (What is that in dog years? 70?) Now, she's peg-legging around on this goofy cast and taking some mild painkillers. Sounds pretty funny, right? It is.
But I've begun to get suspicious about that dog. I think she might be the one holding the leash. Now that she's in a position to get babied, she's milking it for all it's worth. Not only do we have to hold her ass and encased leg up while she pees and poops (stubby-legged wiener dogs do not do so well on three legs, we've discovered), but now she's realized all she's got to do is let out one of her patented, pathetic yowls and she gets carried all over the house, fed, pet, whatever. She knows this little trick gets results and employs it with an eye towards ruling the roost, I believe. She's made slaves of Sarah and I. Or, rather, like I said, just Sarah, cuz she aint my dog, dammit.
Since I don't have any pictures of our goofy little hobbled pain-in-the-ass, how 'bout a crippled wiener dog story? For Wheelie the wiener Dog by Craigslist poster, anon-8822348.