In The Dog House

I got the ultimate “f-you” from my dog tonight, she peed all over MY BED!! Right where my legs go from the knee down to my toes.


I know!! MY BED!! My happy place, my Xanadu, Shangri-La, Utopia, my bed!!

I treat my bed well and it returns my gifts of crisp linens and fluffy pillows (new every two months!) with the most comfortable night’s sleep known to mankind. My pillows are sacred! No one is allowed to touch them but me, because I don’t want your cooties or your bad ju-ju rubbing off your grimy hands and into my dreams. Messing with my bed is breaking one of the highest commandments of my other religion; it’s right up there with “Thou shall stay the hell away from my parking spot.”

“Thou shalt not touch mine bed, nor lie on it without permission, and the touching of the pillows is a sin nigh unto death.” – Eleventeenth Commandment, Church of Sally

I think it’s time to break out the horseradish. Dogs hate it. I treat her so well, why would she do this to me?



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