Lately when I scold my dog, she starts burping. I asked the vet about it, and she said my dog was probably just scared. At first I believed that, but on further consideration, I'm pretty sure she's just being a bitch. Most of our conversations go like this:
Me: Did you seriously steal my quilt, fart on it, and return calmly to your own bed?
Dog: BURP.
I would be annoyed, but she used to be terrified of literally everything and I'm glad she's gained confidence. Although sometimes it seems like a little too much confidence. She wakes up at 7 and smacks me with her claws until I get up. It used to be that curling up in a ball and whimpering worked as a kind of snooze button for the little terror, but then she discovered that attempting to shove her nose up my butt while snorting violently gets me to jump shrieking out of bed, upon which she smirks and stares pointedly at her empty food dish.
The Tessasaurus has separation anxiety, so the vet put her on Prozac to keep her calm. She no longer whimpers and howls the entire time I'm gone (I'm going to have to find a new way to piss off my neighbors), but her new-found calmness has given her time to discover lots of fun new activities, like eating Xbox controllers and slowly chewing a hole in the side of her crate. I came home one day to find her with her head shoved through a giant drool-covered hole in the side of her crate, wagging furiously. I'm guessing that plastic is bad for her digestive system, so I've stopped crating her, which seemed like a logical idea but in fact has merely given her access to a million more things she shouldn't eat and provided her with the opportunity to drool, vomit, or pee on everything I hold dear, herself included. She peed on her own foot this morning, which baffled her. She kept looking up at me like, "Why is there pee going on my foot?" and I was all "Because you're peeing on your foot, dumbass." And then she was like, "But why is there pee getting on my foot?" and then I remembered that my dog is an idiot.
When Tessa needs to go outside, she walks over, wags endearingly and unleashes a deadly fart, leaving me no choice but to open the windows and take her for a walk until the air clears. She is housetrained, but that doesn't stop her from peeing indoors if I annoy her. A few weeks ago I trimmed her nails, which she hates, and 20 minutes later I walked into the living room only to be met by the sight of staring me down while she peed all over her bed. Not just peeing on it, but deliberately scooting around to pee all the fuck over it while shooting me a death glare. If peeing on things was an extreme sport, she would be an Olympian. Also, if peeing on things was part of the Olympics, I might actually watch.
Even though I swore I would never do it because it's obnoxious, you can now follow my dog on Twitter (@TessaIsABitch) for brilliant thoughts like these:
