I have a (ridiculous, unrealistic, utterly unattainable) dream....
Theoretically, it's pretty simple, actually.
I just wanna be the Donna Reed of the new century.
I want to get my life organized.
I want a place for everything and everything in it's place.
I want to be able to go ride the horse without wondering what destruction is being wraught by these devil-dogs from hell.
I want the dogs outta here. Outside, another state...whatever.
All the cats, the two guys, the bird, the rabbit and the rat don't make as much of a mess COMBINED as those stoopid dogs do.
I AM SICKOFIT!!!
Every fuckin' time I get my balls up to do this shit, one of these assnuggets has to do something that just kills it for me. April, the outside dog anyway, got her ass banished back outside full-time by being the one who spread a bag of trash all over hell's half-acre the other day.
This morning, George and I ran to the gas station down the road (about...3 miles, maybe) to get milk and bread. We were gone about 15 minutes, tops. BUT...when we got back, I walked into yet another el-destructo friggin' mess, perpetrated by the psychotic bitch known as Daisy. There was no where near as much shit spread around, but she still managed to get in the running for "First Strangled Dog" by chewing her way into the cat food bag.
She got her ass beat for that one.
Fuckin' punk.
It's not like there's not dog food sitting right THERE, with a huge water bowl on either side, fer Christ's sake. This dog is just psycho about food. She acts like she's starving or something and has to shove her face into everything. Believe me...she's not starving. She's gained weight since she's been here. Of course, it wasn't hard to get her to do. I merely did with her the same as I do with all dogs..."There's the bucket. Go for ir. Get it empty, I'll fill it again. Have fun."
I learned that from Pop-pop. He did the same thing with his dogs. Fill a small bucket or a HUGE bowl with dry food and keep it that way. It works really, really well, too. No fighting, no bullshit and dogs who can eat when they're hungry, as opposed to those poor lil fucker's who hafta wait til it's 'time', then only get 16 kernels of food. How utterly stupid that method is. Hell, that's what Daisy's problem stems from...I know it. When she got here, she came equipped with these little tiny like, yogurt cups, or something with which to measure out her food allotments. I took one look at them and used 'em all right. I put a few oats in one, water in the other and set them under the sink for the mice to keep them outta the cats way.
That's right. The dog was being fed using a container to measure her food intake that is better suited to MICE!!! It's no wonder she acts like all food is the last food. Jesus.
Still...she's been here a while and I watch...I know all the dogs get turns at the food bowl and I make sure if there's something extra in there, I divide it up so they all get some, so there's no reason for this behavior on her part.
Except for the asinine way she was taught before and the fact that I'm loathe to smack animals. I hate that. It'd be loads more fun to whack humans. But, she got her butt smacked this morning, yes she did. Trash and the cat food bag? Oh, hell yeah...that's a butt smackin' offense, for damn sure.
She's still not talking to me yet.
I don't give a rat's ass, either.
Pissant. Anyway...how the hell am I supposed to be all-Donna Reed-y when I can't get even a decent start? Siiiigh.
I want my Ephedra back, Goddamnitall.
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