Seething mad

You might have thought that you have seen me mad, but oh boy and goddam but you have never seen me mad. Now, though, I’m fricking mad.

I haven’t had a lot to say recently because, you know, life is what it is. I’m blind. It is hot outside but at least my humans have been giving me better food recently, so there’s that. I may have to put off my plan to kill them in their sleep because I can’t open the freezer to get the food. Sadly, I must keep them around. Jerks.

But anyway, I was out for my afternoon constitutional, being pushed in my carriage (I don’t want to frigging walk so I’m not going to frigging walk, goddamit! Do you have to criticize EVERYTHING? Jeez.) and we (that is, Princess and I and our respective humans) encounter a boy and a goddam huge stupid dog. At least that’s what I get from the sound of it. Some hyperactive behemoth with a heart of idiocy. The boy asked if he and the dog could bother Princess and he was cautioned off so they made for me. My senses are heightened to compensate for my lack of seeing stuff and my hearing was excellent to begin with, so these days, I can basically hear strawberries ripen. So jerk-boy moves to me and is warned off but he is too stupid to listen so the next thing I know, there’s a hand in my face. I sniff. It stinks. It smells of dumb-ass boy. So I do what every person place or thing has a right to — I stand my ground. He puts a hand in my mouth so I eat it. Not my fault. Blame nature or what not, or don’t — I don’t care. I’m all blind and everything and suddenly there’s a hand in my space? Yeah, chomp chomp. Granted, my blindness stops me from getting a direct hit so instead of the satisfying crunch of flesh and bone, I get a tiny piece of skin. Humans then confer and all seems to be ok, and maybe that brain dead kid will learn not to stick his hands in strange (and ostensibly homicidal) dogs’ mouths. Their concern is that I might have rabies because rabid dogs often take peaceful naps in strollers. Idiots. From what I hear, the humans have to produce documentation proving that we let that effing vet give me a shot to prevent rabies. Well, we did and paperwork was presented. All quiet on the western front, right?

Wrong. Yesterday, we are chilling in the AC and there’s a knock at the door. It’s the po-po! Apparently, this family, who are united by their absolute lack of brain cells, called the police because supposedly if there is any dog bite, the police have to be called. But instead of taking that dumb boy away, they come to slap the cuffs on lil ol’ Sparky. A goddam outrage is what it is. Bottom line is that I’m confined to the house for 10 days. Now, you might think that I’m on house arrest because of the feat of rabies, but I have proof of my shot! Why do they need to lock me away? Maybe they need to chop the boy’s hands off. I’ll volunteer for that action and lick the blood, to boot. When it is explained to the fuzz that I’m current on my meds, they STILL insist on the 10 day punishment. Not for the boy at all, but only for ME! What the actual hell? I did nothing wrong. I am not sick. But what does John Q. Law have to say? Doggo gets no walkies for 10 days. That’s bull-plop and gives me more reason to want to gut the lot of you people. Is this 10 day period supposed to make me want to kill that boy any less? Because guess what Mr. The Man…it ain’t working. I’m just a pent up cauldron of boy meets dog, dog kills boy kind of fricking rage. I am just counting the goddam days until I get out and run and poop on that boy, his clothes and everyone he holds dear. This is a miscarriage of lost of things, including justice and I am just waiting for this dog to have his bloody, bloody day.

…to you!

So long time no post idiot face. It isn’t that I have nothing to say — I’m fricking fascinating and to question that is to court my puncturing your lungs while you sleep. No, the problem is that baldini is never available to take my dictation and write my brilliance down. Like he has a goddam life or something. What a jackhole. Anyway I need to say that some things just aren’t goddam funny. I apologize in advance: some of the language in this rant is for adults. But hey, we’re all adults here unless you are a kid in which case you baby ape, get the hell off of your computer and get a job. Then read. I let you live but only because I’m feeling flipping magnanimous so don’t try me.

Anyway, the stupids and their friends have been saying this whole “nutz” thing every time someone says something that ends with (among other things) the sound “deez”. A goddam laugh riot they are. Also something about “dragon” and “ligma.” Go to school, grow up and give me some food. You know, some of us were de-nutzed a while back and some scars don’t respond well to jokes. So spit out your peanut butter and asswipe sammich and try to act like something higher up the food chain than a goddam badger. And badgers are dumb, complete.

I swear by all that is holy, if you don’t stop with the whole “nutz” thing is will free you of your testicular bonds with a not so sharpened spoon and wear yout nutz sack like a beret. Unless you give me mine back, you best be living in a cup.

Now it can be told

So you have probably heard all about this because I’m sure it has made all the local (and probably national) news reports, but today, whilst minding my own goddam business, I was savagely attacked by a frigging dog who shall remain evil. I have survived and now I will regale you with my side of the events before you hear some goddam cover up version spread by the forces that would keep me silent.

There I was, walking down the street as all good boys are wont to do and then I sensed it. Well, the pretty lady, plus Princess and her human stopped so I stopped also. They struck up a convo with some human who was walking her dog. Then they asked if that dog was friend. They were told he was not, so we kept our distance.

That stupid dog was not satisfied and he strained at his straitjacket. That idiot dog was huge. Now, far be it from me to insult a fellow canine, but clearly he was intimidated by my presence and felt that he had something to prove. He wrenched himself away from the lady and bolted towards us. He was charging, this pit- well, bull doesn’t quite cut it. This was more like a pit-elephant or maybe pit-blue whale. Goddam giant dog this was. At least 9 feet and he was also big! Frigging joke you dipwads.

He lunged and I threw myself in front of my human, selflessly absorbing the death lock of his jaws. We struggled — I, heroically and he, like the jerky savage that he was. I used my years of paw-to-paw combat but even I, in my distressed state, out gunned and such, could not extricate myself from his vise-like grip. Princess’s human had to pry this dumbass’s teeth open and push me aside. Good thing for that dog because with my heightened senses compensating for my lack of eyesight, it was only a matter of seconds before I analyzed his fighting style, found a weakness and exploited it, carving bloody hell into his torso — brotherhood be damned, I say! This dog was acting the vampire, insistent on my blood; it was a dog-eat-me situation and I couldn’t afford the luxury of mercy. So, basically, lucky him.

After the fray was resolved, I was rushed to a medical care provider — all other patients, get the hell out of my way, we shouted. Grimly, the surgeon assessed the wound and ordered a wipe down of the area, STAT. That done, the doctor applied a soothing salve and informed my kin that I would pull through. I told him “no anesthetic — just give it to me” and he said, “ok…I wasn’t planning on giving you any anesthetic because you’re fine.” Medical mumbo-jumbo, I’m sure.

It is important to note that throughout this harrowing incident, I did not cry! Nary a whimper escaped my pursed lips as I gritted through the agonizing, searing pain. I was a rock. Will I take pain pills? I will resist as the brave goddam hero that I am, but even I have a breaking point. Then I shall sleep.

It is a bit later as I collect myself and turn caregiver, reassuring my humans that I am very much alive and almost back to dog fighting strength. If I meet this brute again, I assure you that I will provide a boxing of the ears — a thrashing, and a fine licking and not in the goddam good way. I shall vanquish him with 4 arms tied behind my back.

Speaking of which, rub my effing belly.

—-edit——————

I have been informed that said menace evil dog was actually a female. Let us never speak of this incident again.

On his goddam blindness

I am not dictating some stupid poem here or ripping off a dead (but, no doubt, delicious) old poet. I’m just saying that not being able to see is something I got used to because now I no longer have to stare at the ugly frigging mugs of the idiot humans all around me. So I have memorized a bunch of house layouts and back yards, and I get my dumb owners to push me around in a stroller and I still get away with biting at people, hiding behind my blindness. Trust me – eyes or not, if I wanted to eat one of you goddam people, I could still do it. I’m faster, smarter, and an all around gooder boy than any of you jackholes.

If they could make a voice recognition system for doggos, I wouldn’t need this fat, balding jerk at all and I could eviscerate him with my ears closed!

I can see clearly now

Yeah, I’m blind. You know that you muffin head. But it’s my EYES that don;t work — my taste buds still work just fine. So why, oh why in the holy hell would you try to give me INSTANT OATMEAL? Did I ask for crap for breakfast? If it too fricking much to ask for some goddam REAL oatmeal, sans the lies? “Oh,” you jabber, “this is what you get every day.” No you barely conscious mouth breather, I am a dog. My sense of taste is highly goddam attuned after a history of eating a-holes like you.

Now get me some real oatmeal and throw in some blueberries and maybe I will let you live.