I’ve been a very, very bad dog today, and now I’m in so much trouble.
We are having below zero temperatures again. I cannot stand this cold weather. It hurts my back leg when it is so cold like this and I have to go potty in the snow. Pitbulls are prone to knee problems.
Everyone has been very good about taking me out as soon as I prance or sit by the back door. Mom has even spoken sharply to Dad when he says I can “wait”. “How would you like it if you had to wait? I’ll just take her,” Mom says. I think Dad is winning that one.
Anyway, that’s beside the point. Dad got off work relatively early and ran Mom over to the store. I stayed home with Jamie, who was working on the computer. Now, when Mom and Dad leave, the Hairy Bullet comes out and this time was no exception. I had both of Mom’s yoga gloves, then one of her good ones (I am very thorough about rooting through the basket Mom has hidden of gloves, scarves, etc.), then I stole her boot, then her shoe.
The trouble started when Jamie tried getting the shoe away. I got a little feisty and scratched him below the eye. In fact, any closer and I would have either scratched his eye, or poked it out. Jamie texted Mom and relayed the scratch incident. Mom and Dad immediately came home.
One look at Mom’s face and I groveled on the ground. She hadn’t said a word and she didn’t need to! She looked at Jamie’s eye and assessed the damage (and near damage). Dad gave me a treat anyway and Mom scolded him. After a little while, Mom settled down, grumbling to herself (it didn’t help that she didn’t have a stellar day at the job). I danced near the back door and Mom took me out. I relieved myself “#1” and ran for the door.
A short time later, I was dancing again. Mom told Dad, “Jim, you take her this time. I have a feeling she has to go poop since she didn’t go for me.” Since he had already been scolded, Dad put his boots on without complaint and out we went. I went “#1” again and Dad just shook his head.
After Mom took the leash off, I quickly darted around the family room and into the hallway by the front door. This was more like it! I could poop without my knee hurting, in the warmth and comfort of my own home. Dad and Jamie went upstairs and Mom was downstairs alone when the smell hit her.
Mom went to investigate, and when she saw my offering, she was furious. I rolled over onto my back and showed my belly but she dragged me over there and put my nose by it. Then Mom ran for the disinfectant and Febreze, all the while yelling, “Bad Dog, No Poopies In The House!!!!”
I’m in the doghouse with Mom now. I really wish it would warm up soon. I think we’d both be happier.
Your imprisoned friend, Maggie