First of all, I'm not what you would call a dog person. I'm just not. Some big dog barked in my face when I was a baby, and from what I've heard, things that happen to you when you're baby-sized create later trauma. But after years of physically forcing myself to deal with them, I got over it. Mostly.
Fast forward 10 years.....to the present day. It is present day America right now. Two months ago, my wife and I adopted a dog. And what a dog she is. Half German shepherd, half pit bull (I know - the perfect mix for someone who's tentative around dogs, YES!), and alllll crazy.
This is the calm...before the storm....
Actually, let me say that my dog has grown on me very much, and she's overall a very good girl. Aren't ya? Aren't ya, girl? Yes, yes, you are. You're a good puppy-wuppy-weepy-woo.
But sometimes...she has these moods. There are dark places in her brain, places we don't talk about at parties. And when those strike, well, there's no quarter.
Case in point: last week, she ate my belt. She didn't bite it, didn't tear it up. She physically consumed the belt. She was home alone in her kennel, and the belt was ten feet away from her, hanging on a chair. She deliberately moved herself, in the kennel, over to the belt. And ate it. When I came home, all that remained was a lonely buckle, lying askew on the linoleum.
So what happened? For about four days, nothing. She was fine. But on the fifth day, pieces of belt started coming out in her crap. Then she stopped crapping. Then it was all liquid. Then she vomited up some belt (and other stuff). And then my wife took her to the vet. The vet advised us to give her some Pepcid AC (what?) and don't feed her for a day. Then, she charged us one hundred and fifty dollars. Thank you, doctor. You've done a good turn here today. Now, the vet advised us, over the next few days, your dog is going to be crapping out the last of the belt. So take her on a lot of walks, and bring a lot of crap bags. Christmas in June!
So anyway, my dog is nice, but she's a little crazy. That belt wasn't beef jerky, you, er, jerk! And now on top of all that, I need a new belt. This one, I'm storing in a lockbox.
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