I am so disgusted at the awful pun that is the title to this post.
So this Labor Day weekend wasn't exactly the festive end of summer party good time fun fest that it is supposed to be, but for once it wasn't because I'm a loser who does nothing. Okay, maybe that was still part of it. However there was a much bigger reason for the complete and total suckage of the past few days. My dog had to be put to sleep.
Fifteen and a half years ago my family went to a pet store out in Point Pleasant, New Jersey and wound up coming home with a tiny grey ball of fur. We named him Max because we always liked the obscure names in our family. At the time he was so small and so cute that we could never have imagined that we were ushering in a decade and a half of terror and urine.
There are many things I could talk about regarding Max right now, his love of tomato sauce, how he would get completely shocked any time he farted and stare at his ass for 20 seconds, his growth from a puppy into a child hating territorial maniac, how he once bit a hole through the bridge of my father's nose,or even how at his advanced age he would still get a creepy dog erection anytime he rolled around on his back. But I think I will choose to discuss one of the many scuffles my dog got himself into.
Max, for some reason, became extremely protective of his home turf. At the first hint of someone passing by our property, he would bolt across the yard and hurl himself towards the fence barking like a crazy person and often scaring the crap out of whoever happened to be walking by. This is if we were lucky enough to have remembered to close the gate and repair any holes in the fence.
One day my father, who always insisted he had more control over the dog than he actually did, had Max running in the yard. As the two of them were frolicking about in the green green grass, one of my neighbors was walking her dog by our house.
Her name is Mrs. McKee. I'm not sure why it was a Mrs. because I never saw a man around nor could I ever imagine anyone wanting to marry that little salty waddling sour faced tubby demon. Can you tell I still hold a grudge from her accusing me of running around, trampling her flowers "like some kind of crazed monkey child." Anyway! She had this big gross Chow dog she would waddle with around the block without a leash. I will tell you right now, that dog was a dirty jackass.
As soon as Max noticed the two beasts were walking by, he took off towards the fence. My dad didn't react really because he didn't notice the board missing at the bottom. Whoops.
The noises that came next were pretty disturbing. It was something like, "BARK BARK SNARL AAAAAAHHH AIEEEE SNARL GRRRR YIPE YIPE YIPE SOMEONE HELP"
Max had darted through the hole in the fence, knocked over Mrs McKee and started attacking her fat ass Chow. I seem to have forgotten to mention this, but Max was a miniature schnauzer, not exactly the most foreboding of all the beasts int he animal kingdom. However, despite his lack of girth, he was able to send the Chow yelping down the block back to his house while staying in hot pursuit.
My father ran out of the yard and helped up the old bat who unfortunately had not broken her hip. He then passed a number of confused neighbors on his way to find the dogs. When he turned the corner he found the Chow cowering in it's driveway against the garage as Max darted back and forth in front of him growling and being a general bad ass. Dad managed to grab hold of the terror and haul him back home.
I don't remember us punishing him. If anything I would have cooked him a steak for knocking over that wrinkled pig midget.
So yeah. This was therapeutic. Also I had no idea that was how you spell therapeutic. I'm sure later I will start sobbing quietly under my desk as I think about this and other things like how he would sleep under my covers and I would get paranoid about rolling over on Max in my sleep and then him biting my nuts off.
40s Germany is here
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