KILL
9 August 2004, 01:00
So, it’s about a quarter till midnight – just enough time to go to the post office and mail off ten resumes and then get back to watch my cartoons.
And usually, before the devil dog came to make my life a living hell and have me run whenever possible after his ass, I would take the dogs to the post office. It’s a little treat for them to get out to go bye-bye and do a poop on the lawn of the post office. Milo, Afga and Kodak were wonderful. They would go over to the little well manicured lawn by the flag pole and do some pees and some poopies. They would do it, stand and take in the surroundings and look at me. Then I would direct them back to the car and we would go home and either watch some cartoons or some other Duh-like activity – possibly drop by the park, and make more doodies.
I had taken Jacob, satan’s guard dog, to the post office last time, and the bastard jumped out the window and ran off, making giant circles around the post office, running and peeing in the park next door, in the parking lot in back, over by the parking garage across the street. Thank god these little sojourns into the real world are at night. I live in the Bible belt, so midnight on a Sunday in my city is reminisent of an old ghost town. Nobody but weirdos and cops are wandering the streets. So when the stupid dog ran off, my big concern was just to get him back to the car – I didn’t worry too much about him getting splattered all over the concrete like a big birdie plotz.
Well. Tonight I had to go again. I took a handful of resumes and my keys and tried to sneak out, but the dogs sensed I was going bye-bye, and like demented clowns, they made cute faces and wiggled some butt to convince me that they were some wonderful sweetems and deserved to go bye bye. And I’m a soft touch. I thought, “Oh crapweasel, sure. Lets all go.”
But. I learned last time about the dog and his Carl Lewis imitation around the downtown area, so I only cracked the window so they could at least stick there heads out during the car ride, but not get out. So we head out, dogs in tow, to mail resumes and have a car ride.
Jake is bouncing off the walls in the car, happy as if we shot him up with crack, and he’s sticking his head out the window, letting his slobber sway in the wind. He’s barking at other cars, and the winos downtown. We get to the post office and I go in to do mah bidness. I start walking back to the car and I see Jake sitting outside the glass doors looking at me. I am slightly irate, but he doesn’t seem crazy so I let him walk back to the car, thinking my little retarded dog would hop into the car.
Nope. Didn’t happen like that. I was totally deluded.
The dog took off like bat shit out of cannon, and like a shot, ran to the park next door. I’m watching him, thinking that he’s a dead dog, because if I get my hands on him, I’m gonna kill like Ted Bundy. He’s running giant circles with me as the center. He keeps the car in the middle and just goes insane. Jakes a peeing/pooping maniac that is running at top speed. I figured that I needed to get in the car to follow him, and that was the first insightful thing I thought of all evening. Sure enough, I get in the car and start to follow the dog. He’s sees the car and starts to follow right by it, running with a happy fucking smirk on his face. He sees the car follow and runs even faster. I feel the veins in my head start to throb. Finally, I get the idea to drive AWAY from him ass, and he starts to follow the car at top speed. So I figure he gets the idea that he needs to get in the car. So I stop and open the door, and he heads full blast to the door and blows past to cross the street into the City Hall parking lot which is closed.
I’m starting to get pissed. And I mean Milo pissed – the sort of pissed I use to get when Milo would take off running to the nearest sewer drain to roll in the nasty water. He would get wet and stinky and roll over when he saw me, causing me to have an anger anurism trying to drag his 110 lb. ass back to the house.
I park on the street, praying that the dog would suddenly come down with a case of smarts and just come back to the car. Plus, there was a cop car pulling out of the underground police garage, so I was hoping against hope they would help me and not take me to jail. I always think cops are going to take me to jail. Force of habit. Maybe they would help me, I thought, as they pulled into a parking place in the lot.
Nope. Again, I was delusional.
Apparently they were just there to watch me run around trying to catch the dog, who by this time thought this would be a happy fun game to wait till I got about three feet from him and then take off running. Jake loves seeing mommy run like a wounded rhino trying to catch him. I think he’s waiting for me to keel over from a coronary.
So he’s running giant rings around me, happy, and marking territory. He runs over to the train station next to City Hall and became engrossed in whatever died underneath the platform. I know it’s something that died, because he starts rolling in it and he never rolls in anything that doesn’t smell like a dead street person’s ass. So I run over, and good god, the fates were smiling on me, because I catch the stupid bastard, and I spank him. All this while, the cops are watching me from their car. I am doughnut break entertainment.
I grab the dog and try to carry him back to the car, cussing and getting more pissed by the second. Then I think god thought my life was going too well at this point, so flips me the divine bird, and the dog slips out of my hands and he takes off like his ass was on fire.
For one brief second, my mind snapped and I was transported to another dimension where I was standing in a similar parking lot, with my hands around the dog, throttling him with my shoe. I was happy. For one brief second.
Well. Crack dog runs around again, making concentric circles, only stopping to answer the call of nature again and make a number two right next to the empty parking attendant booth. I saw my chance. I beat a path to the squating dog and grab him by his scruff in mid poo. He knows he’s in trouble and immediately rolls over and goes limp. I start to feel my left eye swell with blood and throb. I am in the deepest state of mad since… well… the last time the dog took off running.
So I drag his ass back to the car, cussing and smacking him.
Now I’ve made him sit in the kitchen away from me.
Actually, he decided to sit in the kitchen away from me.
I think its a self preservation technique. Maybe he ain’t so dumb.
