Thursday, July 1, 2010

I hate this day

This day needs to end before I kill someone.  The three highest on my hit list are, in this order:

The fucking dog

Meh, never mind.  I think the kids are safe since they only have minutes left before their bedtime.  That dog, though.  Tullah may not live to see tomorrow.

Upon arriving home after the zoo (which was a bust with screaming kids) the dog had tore the garbage apart.  Chicken and pork juices, coffee grinds, veggie and fruit leftovers from prepping them because I just made groceries.  It was everywhere.  EVERYWHERE.  I was livid.  I'm so sick of having to put the garbage up or coming home to this mess.  Part of me wants her to have eaten something that gets lodged in her throat when she tries to puke it up and kills her.  But with my luck it would get stuck in her colon and Mike would make me take her to the vet and it would cost me a fortune.

There is not a day that goes by that I don't thank my lucky stars that all four animals that we had in this house while I was knocked up with Layla are dead.  Two cats and their nasty litter box.  Dead.  Yay!  I still mourn one of the dogs, but he would be old now and most likely cranky with the kids.  I generally like Tullah, but this dog will not stop getting into garbage and it pisses me off.

I don't like hating something so much.  I can't stand having to bite back a string of curse words that would make my mother wash my mouth out with soap so that my kids don't learn that hard way that the only creative bone that I have in my body is my skill at clever cussing.  Nobody should have to hear their mother call their dog a Tijuana donkey fucking side show.  Well, not at three, anyway.

Stupid dog.  I just KNOW that she is going to get the shits tonight and if I have to clean up diarrhea from white carpet in the middle of the night, I'm going to throttle her.

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