Dog for sale

Every time I let my demon poodle outside to pee, I feel the urgent need to post.  But usually, as soon I let him back in, with a verbal parade of disgust (mumbled under my breath, of course), I am already on to something else.  But it’s 10 pm.  My little sweet daughter is in bed.  My house is quiet.  And the blatant aggravation is fueling me to act in a way that will record my misery for all to share. 

So I will be sitting near the sliding glass door, tapping away on my computer, lost in the world of my hunky and messed up hero, and he (the poodle, not the hero) will incessantly paw at the door.  Clickity-click with his little poodle paws.  As if his bladder is about to burst.  As if feces are about to fly and splatter the walls.  And after ten solid minutes of swearing inside my head, I will indulge his little apricot fancy.  And then it begins. 

I know how it is when I have to go.  If it were me, after pawing recklessly at the glass, I would rush out, all distractions be damned, and relieve myself on the nearest  relieving-looking item and sigh with happiness.  But not the poodle.  Nope.

He does burst out the door, only to stop two feet away with a morbid curiosity of a random dead bug. 

“Max,” I order.  “Go potty”

(The rest of this story will be from the poodle street-perspective, as it is only aggravating from mine.)

Wow!  Look at this bug!  On his back, legs up in the air for me to sniff!  His scent is telling me…

“MAX.  BLABLABLA.”

She is so annoying with the constant yammering.  ANYWAY, like I was saying…Hey!  Look at that!  A leaf actually blew onto the porch!  It must be my lucky day!  I LOVE leaves…

“MAX, BLABLABLA!  SERIOUSLY, BLABLA!”

What a downer.  She must not like leaves!  What a freak.  Fine, I’ll trot over here…Oh no!! Somebody moved this bucket!  BARK!  Somebody moved the frickin’ bucket!  Get out here!!!  BARK BARK!!  I better stick my nose in it and see if the mud that was in the bucket before was stolen or if it is the same mud my girl put in it two weeks ago.  Here goes nothi…

“MAX”  (loud snaps and clapping noises).  “WTF? ( I abbreviated that for the sensitive readers.  The naughty ones will understand…and you know who you are).  WEREN’T YOU DESPERATE BLABLABLABLA”

She seroiusly needs some yoga.  Or a sedative.  I will stare at her for a few seconds, she will think her dramatics have had an impact, she will throw her arms up and go inside, then I will resume the Bucket investigation.  I will not be derailed in the serious business of…

“WHAT IN THE @&(% ARE YOU BLABLABLABLA?”

Oops, didn’t wait long enough.  Ok.  I will prance about looking serious.  I will look as if I have forgotten how bad I have to pee.  Did I have to pee?  What did I have for breakfast?  Is that a butterfly?  She will see I am all about business, and back off on the crazy commands.  That looks to be an anole.  My girl loves to catch those!  I usually pee over here.  I’ll just do a little sniffing and WHOA!  I just found the last place I peed.  Oh my goodness!  PEE!  And it’s my old pee!  Yep, definitely mine.  Maybe a little rear foot dance is in order!  I will just kick my little poodle feet out like this like I am trying to bury…

“OMG.  SERIOUSLY?  YES.  THAT”S YOUR PEE, EINSTEIN.  I CAN STILL SEE YOU!   BLABLABLA!!!!!!”

Wow.  Nevermind.  I don’t have to go anymore.  I guess I’ll just prance in all prissy-like past her and go find something of hers to chew.  Hey!  A bird just flew by! BARK!  Better yet, I’ll find something of the girls to chew.  That’ll really…

“FINE!  GET IN HERE! BLABLABLA”

Oops.  Distracted again.  Took a bit of the impact off my idea.  *Bleep*  But on to one of the girls plastic reptiles…

And I, a poodle owner, am blessed with hours of this every day.  I think I will turn him loose in Amylynn’s house.  Maybe her dog will tree him on the lamp and he’ll have a rock-bottom moment.  Kinda like rehab. 

Dear God, I just posted a whole entry on my poodle.  I might need a job.