|I also didn't make you wear this stupid coat, so can it.|
There comes a time in every couple's life when they can't decide who left the dog outside overnight. Although neither of us meant to, Husband and I came to the realization that we locked Flea out for the evening without so much as a "Would you care for a blanket or a half-empty can of pepper spray to fend off intruders?" Husband said he looked terrified when he let him in, the next day.
And I quote: "He looked terrified."
As you know, I usually don't apologize to the dog, but, as I too would've been terrified if Husband had locked me outside all night again, I thought I'd write the dog a small mea culpa of sorts...emphasis on "of sorts".
Please note: "mea culpa" is being loosely translated today as, "I'm not really sorry at all. Not even a little bit." Ancient philosophers agree that this is what was originally meant.
I'm really tired today because Butch decided to climb in bed with me last night and slap me in the face repeatedly. Also, I'm quite fat now, so watching me sleep is something close to watching a walrus dance to Lou Bega's 1999 smash, "Mambo No. 5".
But you're the one who has problems...
Leaving you outside was definitely an oversight, but you acted like we entered you in the Hunger Games and made sure you didn't get a backpack full of weapons and/or food. No one tried to kill you.
Wait...no one tried to kill you, right?
The fact of the matter is, your kind's been sleeping outside for thousands of years. And you know what? None of them got to sleep on the couch and watch Real Housewives when they thought everyone else was asleep. That's right. I hear what you're doing. That, and I know that you know that I know you know where my secret stash of Doritos is, and you crawl up there and steal them. You're gonna get so fat, and then we'll be fat together, and who does that help?
No one....except the Doritos company and possibly Weight Watchers, when I call and sounds ridiculous asking for a "Dog and owner discount package". Because I don't think Kirstie Alley ever waddled on the screen, dragging a diabetic poodle behind her.
So, the next time I "accidentally" lock you out, try to to lose the attitude. Some of us would pay good money to sleep under a cushion-less couch next a bucket of my old cigarette butts.
Until Next Time, Readers!