How Do You Know When It’s Over?

How do you know when it’s over? How do you know when love has died? How do you know when you are in an abusive relationship? If you are asking these questions, is that a sign?

And no, I’m not talking about my husband. I’m talking about Stinky Weaselton, the hound from hell. Due to her love of writing implements and dancing on tables, it’s quite possible she is the reincarnation of Zelda Fitzgerald. I hear she was a real bitch, too.

Seriously, if you leave a pen, pencil, crayon or marker out anywhere, Stinky will find a way to claim it and chew it up. I have caught her up on the coffee table, the end table and the kitchen table nosing around for writing implements. Eww! Who wants a dog up on their kitchen table?

In addition to the writing implements, Stinky has also chewed up numerous popsicle sticks she pulled from the trash, two blankets, a doll, a stuffed pig, two pairs of shoes, two packs of gum, several tubes of lip balm, two towels, and a plastic breath mint container. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I’m convinced the dog pees out of defiance. If you do not pay homage to her by petting her and loving her and telling her she is pretty, she will pee on your rug. She is sneaky about it, too. Little jerk!

The dog is also in love with the sound of her own voice.  After two hateful letters from the City, we can hardly let her outside.  Stupid Yappy McBarkerson!

Stinky is going to have to find a new place to live. I can no longer tolerate her drama, her destructive behavior, her complete defiance of the rules of our household. She is a bully and a nuisance and I just cannot love her. And all God’s creatures deserve to be loved. Surely there is a masochist out there looking for a dog.