Yes, I've been home alone for awhile, working on homework. Why do you ask?
Anyway - I just want to say our dog is a little sh*t. No, he's not the sh*t. That is a compliment, somehow. I don't know, these crazy kids and their crazy slang. Back in my day comparing someone to fecal matter was not a compliment - let me tell you! (Also, another poop post!!!)
Anyway - our dog is a little sh*t.
Yes, I am going to continue to spell sh*t this way. You see - I'm not swearing, but YOU are. Oh yes you are. In your little brain hole you're thinking the naughty word, while I get to be pious and not actually swear. sh*t sh*t sh*t sh*t (This is the part in the story where those of you who swear anyway need to just say it out loud to prove that I'm not getting inside your head but I am.)
Anyway - our dog is a little sh*t. The stupid sh*t pulled our only (ONLY!) curtain down this morning, bending our only (ONLY!) curtain rod. The little sh*t.
If you've been to our house or met him, you know I speak the truth. Any time anyone comes over...oi - the barking! We have our windows open right now because the weather's so nice we need not heat nor air - only open windows. But this means every. single. noise. that our neighbors make results in the bark fest to end all bark fests.
Now that we have Chairman Meow (another little sh*t), the level of sh*t in the house rose up to neck level. CM needs, desperately, to be on your person in some fashion. Lap, neck, arm, hand, foot, face - it does not matter - the only requirement is physical contact. And undivided attention. "Why are you typing, human - I need attention! And food." Well this gets Sh*t #1 all riled up. Even though the only attention Sh*t #2 is getting is me picking him up off me and setting him on the floor, every movement warrants immediate action on Sh*t #1's part.
(side note - Mr. T just came home, so the little sh*t is barking. and whining.)
Don't even get me started on bed time. I go to bed hours before Mr. T's magical bedtime of sunrise, so I get to snuggle up with three steaming piles of sh*t, not one of which can handle the other two piles. There is hissing, growling, barking, gnawing on my person, and always with the constant, never ceasing movement.
And now, for your amusement - all our little sh*ts in action:
The O.S. (Original Sh*t):