Tantrum Warehouse
Tact Free Since 2003

The Dachshund Cure

2005-01-20
Last night I remembered why I put up with my dogs. They smell. They chew things. My living room has a horrifying pee smell that I cannot find the source of. They wake us up in the middle of the night. They are loud. They hump each other in very gross ways.

But I had a horrible day yesterday. We had a car breakdown. Jís job just blows honestly. And I was very sick. And when you puke you cannot go home and drown your woes in wine. Well you could, but that would just make you very very stupid. So it was just the kind of day that makes you want to get all Scarlet OíHara about the world. I definitely did some foot stomping. And possibly wailing. And J would tell you I sniveled but he is a known liar so do not believe him.

But I cut the dramatics and went and got in bed with Darla. Let me tell you that there is very little in life as comforting as a warm dachshund. If you feed her crackers she will even lick your hand. She may smell like poo but she will warm your stomach and listen oh so attentively as you explain why car prowlers are evil and how you would like to bomb a certain block of Seattle waterfront property. She knows you wonít because how would you pay for Darla food from prison. But she will listen anyway. And she will laugh as you bitch about the people you do not like on Project Runway. She will laugh. I mean, she canít actually laugh, but her eyes will laugh. Because you are the funniest puppy mama EVER. Donít you ever let anyone tell you different, ok? And give me another cracker.

You like Jay best. She strongly disagrees in favor of Kevin. But she will let you have your way. Especially when you give her a comforting pat when he almost gets eliminated.

She also will not look at you in disgust when you drool lustfully over the guy in the Lipitor commercial. She knows he is older than your dad. She knows it is sick. But Darla will not tell anyone how sick and sad you are. Not even when you tell the whole internet your sick and sad ways. She will shake her head and deny that it ever happened. She knows who feeds her crackers.

Crackers and coca-cola and overly dramatic reality TV do a lot to heal a wounded soul. A dachshund will take care of the rest.

This makes up for the last time you peed the bed, young lady. Donít ever let it happen again.

2:03 p.m. :: comment ::
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