On Dumping Your Dog

    I always listen to music when I write a blog. I have a special writing playlist that I use on my Spotify account any time I'm writing. Today I'm not using that playlist. Today, my Eminem playlist, with all of my favorite angry ass Eminem songs is blasting at me, because today, I'm angry as fuck.

This is the first photo I ever took of Percy, the day he became legally ours, December 13, 2012

    Most of you who have been faithful followers from the beginning will know that Percy is somewhat famous - famous for being dumped. I wrote an article about him that Modern Dog Magazine published and the rest is history. He occasionally gets recognized at the dog park, pet store, vet, whatever.

Watching me this morning as I was waking up. He literally will not let me out of his sight.

    Percy is "famous" for something awful. Percy is famous because some asshole decided he wasn't worth moving with... at least, I think.

   We're moving. Like, our house is full of boxes, nothing is where it should be, the furniture is fucked up, a lot of shit is in the garage, cardboard is piled high... and my dog is in a fucking panic.

Fucking boxes. I fucking hate moving.

    I'm so sad for him, because I don't know how to convey to him that he's not going to get left behind. I don't know how to make my boy feel better. Today as I was packing he put his favorite toy in the box I was working on. I left it in there in hopes that it would calm him, and left the box open in case he decided he wanted it. He hasn't taken it out. I don't think he's going to, but he doesn't seem to feel any better at all.

    Under that sadness, I'm angry. I'm a fucking pissed off mama bear looking for a fight, so I decided I would post a nasty, curse word filled blog entry tonight to get the anger out. Floating around social media there is a beautiful post... I think it went best of Craigslist... It's a rescuer who found two dogs who were obviously mistreated and neglected... I fucking wish to all that is holy that I had half the grace that the poster had - as it stands, I don't.

    If you're going to get a dog, you need to know that it's a 10 - 20 year commitment, and yes, I've seen 20 year old dogs. I've seen older, too. It's not a "for now", it's not just a toy for your kids to get sick of in six months. It's not a fucking piece of furniture to be put on the goddamn sidewalk with your fucking couch when you move because it's inconvenient. Doom has moved with me nine times since I was eighteen. He never panics about the boxes because he knows that the morning we start moving those boxes, he's going to go hang out someplace fun as hell until we come pick him up with a full trailer to be unloaded in our new house, probably in a new state. Doom has never been abandoned. I don't imagine that Bridget or Piglet ever has either, because they're not like Percy.

   From the first box that I started piling shit into, he has been glued to my side, he watches me like a hawk, he is constantly under foot, he freaks the fuck out if I walk out the door, or leave him in another room. He is the product of some fucking asshole who didn't know what forever meant.

Another pic in our "mid moving hell hole"

   If you're getting a dog, stop and think. If you move, where will your dog go? If the answer is anywhere but "with me" you have no business getting a dog. You have no business putting another soul through the bull shit that Percy has been through. He looks at boxes like his life is getting ready to end, and no amount of treats, snuggles, or love can convince him that I'm not going to run away and leave him in an empty back yard with the fucking gate open in hopes that he'll take off. The assholes who dumped him didn't even take him to a rescue. Don't fucking be that person. Don't fucking be an asshole. For the sake of fuck, don't get a fucking pet if you can't make that commitment. Dogs live longer than most marriages in my experience, and they're smart. They know things - they know that they love you, and they want to go with you, and they should be allowed to.

    Don't ditch your responsibility for someone like me to come along and try to clean up. I spent hours and hours walking around our neighborhood just for Percy to repeatedly stop and check the same empty house with the back gate open - a house that had had people and cars buzzing around it the day before. I tell myself that maybe he's smelling drugs, or some shit like that, and that it wasn't really where he lived. I hope his story is less sad than I'm guessing it is, but the truth of the matter is that it probably isn't.

    On the off chance that Percy's former people read this post (what are the chances, really? Pretty slim, I'm sure,) I'd like to say this: You are a fucking piece of shit. You shattered this beautiful dog's soul because you were a selfish idiot who had no business getting a dog in the first place, given how skinny and matted he was. I hope to fuck you don't have children because you're not fit to take care of them. You're not fit to care for anything. I have spent the last couple of years picking up the pieces of the dog that you couldn't be bothered to train and take care of only to have the poor guy fall apart every time we have to move again. I hope this is our last move for a very long time. I hope we can stay in this place for five or six years before we buy a house and make our last move, because I don't want him to have to go through in his head what you really put him through over and over. Fuck you. Fuck you for ruining a part of a perfectly good dog because you are selfish and lazy. I hope to fuck you didn't go out and get another dog to starve and make handshy, and dump... when you have to move again. I hope that someday, someone you love and trust abandons you out of nowhere.

    I know. I'm assuming a lot. I don't care. HOWEVER, there is no fucking excuse to abandon a dog on the street to die. None. If you got him from a breeder, she should take him back. If you got him from a shelter, take him there. If you got him from anywhere else, see if they'll take him back, if not, find a fucking rescue. Don't put him out on the street like his fucking life doesn't matter. His life matters just as much as yours.

The last thing I would like to say to Percy's former owners is... Thank you. Thank you for giving me the dog that got me through my heart dog's death. Thank you for being stupid enough to let him go. Thank you for leaving me with a challenge that distracted me enough to get me through the shit storm that has been my life for the last three years. And, hopefully, thank you for never getting another dog.

All My Paws,

Annie

 

For The New Owner

Dear New Dog Owner,
    I don't know you. I don't know if you're twelve, like I was when I first met my Lucky, or 112, like I hope to be when I finally kick the bucket. How amazing would it be to have 100 years of dogs? I think it would be pretty incredible. I don't know if your dog is a tiny puppy just starting his story, or a grown up with a history you'll never know. What I do know is that there are so many things to say in this letter that I will probably forget most of them.

Doom, when he was eight weeks old, and I was 16.

  First, in this world, there are judgmental assholes who will tell you that getting a dog from a breeder is wrong. There are also judgmental assholes that will tell you that getting a rescue was stupid - the fact of the matter is that it doesn't matter where your dog comes from. What matters is that your new dog, young or old, mutt or pedigreed champion in the making, fits your family, that you can give him unconditional love, because that is all he or she will ever ask of you. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, except the dog. The dog might one day tell you that he REALLY would like some bacon.

Lucky, always hoping for that piece of bacon, and Bear behind him.

   Second, learn from your dog. While you are training him, let him train you. No, not to get him a treat each time he gives you his hungry face, or to simper at him during every vet trip, but simply to enjoy life unconditionally. To love your family and friends, forgive even the gravest of errors... and to hell with it - snatch that last cookie when nobody is looking if you REALLY want it. Learn from him to share your toys, smile often hike your leg on the things that bother you and can't be changed. Your new dog is smarter than you will give him credit for, and wiser than you'll ever be, so while you teach him to sit, learn from him not to sweat the small stuff.

Ted, our Chinese Crested.

   You should already know that there is a good chance you will out live your dog. Be prepared for this, but do not dread it. Live, even with a terminal diagnosis, like you will never stop throwing the ball. Remember that when he destroys your favorite boots because you left them where his newly budding teeth could find them... They aren't forever, and they don't understand anger.

Doom, Bobsie and Booger int he background, greeting me when I came home on leave from the Army.

   Your dog will get into shenanigans aplenty. He may tangle himself in your bra, like Bobsie did one day while I was at work. He may get his head stuck digging into his Christmas stocking, like Percy did this last Christmas. He may even swallow something that has to be surgically removed. Remember again that dogs don't understand what "mad" means. Bail him out with a smile when shenanigans blossom in your home. One day, you will look back and laugh.

She was so embarrassed. LOL

   Savor the slimy tennis balls, muddy paw prints on your floor, and nose smudged windows. I bitch about them, but there is a part of me that will miss them if, gods forbid, one day they are all gone.

Doom and Booger chillin' with me on the couch. I was 17.

   Find a vet that you love and trust, and for whom your dog wags his tail. If you doctor made you want to rip his balls off, you wouldn't want to see him either. Don't make your dog see someone for his medical issues and yearly checkups that he's not comfortable with. Build a relationship with your vet. You will never regret it.

Doom in his favorite place - all up in my face.

   Don't hold grudges when he does something you don't like. Hours later, he won't understand why he is a "bad dog" and you won't love hon him. Pet him and tell him that he is a good dog as often as you can. When he's gone, you'll wish you'd done it more often.

Post bath playing in the dirt, and damn proud of it.

   When the time comes, it won't hurt to feed him a whole bag of his favorite treats before you see the vet that last time. Don't hesitate to hold him and tell him how much you love him - it's not ridiculous. He loves you too. Be there for him, the way he was for you when the relationship you thought was forever fell apart, when your grandmother died, when your best friend moved away. Hold him to his very last breath, and smile remembering every moment the two of you shared, big or small. He would want you to remember the good - never the bad.

She always was a bossy thing.

   The biggest thing I want to say to you, the new owner, is congratulations. You have just found a piece of your heart that you didn't even know was missing, and the greatest adventure of your life is about to begin. You're lucky to have each other. Don't ever forget it.

Percy, pinning my husband down, and completely unsorry about it.

All My Paws,

Annie

No Shame

 Percy has what I used to think was a problem – he has absolutely no shame when it comes to... well, anything. The other day I made two dozen of the most luscious, sinful caramel banana pancakes you've ever tasted, and Percy saw an opportunity and took it. I left them to cool where he could see, smell and reach them, ran to the bathroom and he snatched them. Every. Last. One. When I came back ready to separate and bag them, they were gone, and my rotten dog was sitting there with a pancake eating grin on his big, stupid face. Fucking jerk.

"I steal shit off the counters. I'm not even a little bit sorry. Those pancakes were delicious. I am an asshole." -Percy

I sent him to his crate, but he never once bowed his head or even acted like he gave two shits and a fuck.

Here's the thing: It's not often that any of my dogs misbehave – this is 90% training and 10% prevention. One of my favorite quotes is by Kvothe: “There are few things more nauseating than pure obedience.” and I agree. My dogs don't always do what they should - they have desires like any human, and that brings me down to the point of this blog.

Sorry this one is so hard to read "I growl at any dog that walks by, just because I can. I am a jerk." Doom "My favorite game in the world is piss Doom off. I always do it with a smile." -Percy

Percy's unabashed disobedience is so annoying that I could wring his fucking neck, but on the flip side, I truly wish that I could give that few fucks when someone I love is pissed with me. I wish I could be that joyously uninhibited in my decision making because I have less shame than a hooker on Sunday.

"I know I'm not supposed to beg, but WOW, that looks yummy! Just a lick?" -Piglet

I find it very interesting how every dog is different in this respect. Doom, for example, though he's never been scolded for having an accident in the house is so shamefaced after having one, I can't help but want to hug him, whereas Bobsie, from the time I adopted her, would pee on my pillow every time I took her to the vet, and not even bat an eyelash.

"I like to pretend that I'm cold so mom will put a sweater on me, then beg to have it taken off five minutes later". -Bridget

As a human, if you do something that's socially unacceptable, you're labeled a sociopath or worse – we put these bindings on our children and tell them that only X is right, and if you think Y or Z, you're wrong and weird. Now, yes, there are things that need to be taught, for example, bullying isn't OK – but why shame boys into thinking that pink is only for girls, and girls into thinking that they can't play football? Why can't a boy sing in a musical or dance in a ballet without being called “queer” by his peers? Why can't a girl be on the wrestling team without being called a dyke? And why, why have we taught generation after generation to feel shame over their bodies? What is wrong with us that a month after Britney Spears gave birth, we're nodding in agreement as an MTV reporter calls her fat?

"I think it's really funny to rub slimy tennis balls all over your hands. No shame." -Doom

Why can't we be more like our dogs? Why do we obey stupid standards put to us by a society that is obsessed with ass, tits and which celebrity got arrested for being drunk this weekend?

Tell me, please, what is so wring with being as unashamed of who and what we are as our dogs are?

J.W. Stephens said “Be the person your dog thinks you are.” Maybe if we followed that advice we all would be a little happier. Maybe we all would get along better because we wouldn't be trying so hard to hide parts of our souls from the judging eyes of our peers.

"I like clean laundry and I cannot lie, you other doggies can't deny." -Piglet

Maybe we should all snatch a pancake once in a while, and fuck what anyone else thinks.

"My favorite place to sit is on the table top where I know I am not supposed to be. When mom tells me to get down, I roll my eyes." -Bridget

What would you do if shame weren't a factor? I would make a real attempt at publishing some of my fictional work, because I wouldn't be worried about what people would think. I try to worry about it as little as possible, but there still exists a tiny seed of doubt in my mind that hates criticism, however, I've decided that this year I'm going to say “fuck you” to shame and try to be more like my dog – even if it makes people think I'm an idiot... Because in truth – I am sometimes.

All my paws,

Annie

"If you're not a dog person, I'm not a "you" person." -Annie

P.S.

I hope you enjoyed all the dog shaming photos – we had fun coming up with them!

"I am an unabashed smart-ass." -Jon

My husband is awesome. LOL

Dogs Don't Talk - Thank Blog!

    A few days ago, my husband and I got into a rather heated debate about which of the 101 Dalmatians films is better. It was a really stupid argument (mostly because I'm so obviously right, but whatever.) He says that the talking dogs in the animated version makes the movie easier to follow, while I feel that talking dogs are a juvenile fantasy and much prefer the live action version. Seriously, only the humans talk, and frankly, that's more than enough chit chat for me. We don't need to add the dogs two cents in there (besides, who didn't love watching Glenn Close get covered in shit? I love her, but I loved that even more!)

Photo credit to Disney and Google

   I know. You would think that given my crazy dog lady status, that I would be the first to wish that dogs could speak. However, I'm not.

   Why?

Well, it's simple, you see - I'm very Grinch-like when it comes to noise. It's one thing I hate, the noise, noise, noise, NOISE! (Side note - do you notice how that started to sound like a noise rather than a word?) I very much prefer a quiet environment,which, truth be told, I don't get very often because I have two kids.

Not as Grinchy as I was hoping, but it works, I guess. 

My dogs, on the other hand, don't talk. They don't (verbally) criticize my every move. They don't talk shit (to humans) behind my back. They don't (verbally) incessantly make demands of me, or spill the deepest darkest secrets I've told them.

Yet, even lacking the capability to verbally voice that they love me, I know that the fuckers do.

I mean seriously. They put up with me making them do shit like this. If that's not love, I don't know what is.

To me, one of the most beautiful, special things about this idiotic pack of nonverbal imbeciles is that every day, they SHOW me that they love me, and in return, I have to show them that I love them. They don't understand "I love you" in the same sense that people do - and that's fine. It also helps me to remember to show my human friends and family that I love them, because so often, the words aren't enough.

Percy, for example, is always there if I'm crying or upset. I hear his little snort of concern as he climbs up to lay beside me with his head in my lap (or, you know, right in my face if I'm laying down). He's been ding this since the day we brought him in off the street. Words, I feel would cheapen these moments. Why would I want something so human to come out of something so beautifully dog? I wouldn't.

Piglet is a foot licker. I used to jerk my feet away and tell her to find something else to do until I noticed the look of sadness in her eyes one day. Pedicures are Pig's love language. Is having my feet licked my favorite thing? No, but frankly I'm glad, if she's determined to use that as her way to let me know that she loves me, that she doesn't talk while she does it. Can you imagine??? "Bitch, your feet are nasty. Hold still while I clean that shit up. Dumb ass humans can't even lick your own feet... Hey, by the way, since I do this for you, you should totally consider doing my ears with your tongue next time.

No. Please don't talk.

Bridget, though, she's my girl. It may not be so bad if she could talk (except that I totally hear her speaking with a valley girl type accent. Gods forbid) because Bridget is my migraine alert and protection system. Hours before the onset of a migraine she develops an obsession with my head. You read that right. She wants to be as close to my cranium as possible right before my own personal hell opens up right inside my skull. She noses, paws, sniffs and is just a general nuisance in the time leading up to the flood gates of evil opening. I've had her since 2012, and stupid human that I am only put two and two together recently to discover that she was warning me - now I can take my medicine before it starts and it doesn't hit so hard.

On top of warning me, she also tries her damnedest to get people to leave me the hell alone when I'm feeling under the weather - be it a migraine, the flu, or even pregnancy. While I was pregnant, Bridget would growl and nip at anyone who tried to wake me up. Thankfully we were able to stop the nipping, but she still would growl and block any attempts made at touching me. How is warning me about a migraine and preventing people from waking me anything other than love?! That's more than I could ever ask for.

Then, of course there's Doom. Doom is my long time partner in crime, though in the past few years, he's decided that he likes my husband better. He has proven in the past that he would, again and again, risk his life for me. I read somewhere once (thought of course, like anything I read on the internet, I took it with a grain of salt) that it's unusual for a dog to protect his owner when his own life is in danger is very rare if he hasn't been trained to do so. However, Doom has done it not once, not twice, but three times. I will never forgive myself for putting him in a situation where he felt it was necessary to do so, but I tell you, I will also never forget what he's done for me, even though he probably thinks I'm a fucking idiot.

This turned into more of a ramble as to why my dogs are fucking awesome than reasons dogs shouldn't speak in the movies, but it is what it is. I guess it's enough to say that I prefer the character that dogs display in their natural, nonverbal state to annoying voice overs that never seem to fit right. I will always prefer Piglet's insistent "MOOOOOOOOO!!!" to "Bitch, I'm hungry get off your lazy ass and feed me!" Percy's soft snorting to being repeatedly asked if I'm ok, Bridget's sassy ROO to being told that I am her cuddle bitch and need to get my ass in bed, and, of course, Doom's deep throated roar asking me to throw the ball in place of "ohmygodareyoustupidthrowthedamnthingalreadyyoustupidhumanimbecile!"

Dogs are fucking awesome te way they are. No words needed.

Hm. Maybe I'd like people better if they didn't talk.

All My Paws,

Annie

The Bathing Blog

   What is more miserable than a wet dog?
   An owner that has to smell a stinky one. At least, that's how I feel.

   I was laying in bed feeding the baby the other night when I got a big tasty whiff of anal glands. When I say tasty, I mean fucking disgusting. I was seriously tempted to get up right then, at midnight, and bathe McStinky. However, I convinced myself to just go to sleep and deal with it in the morning. I woke Percy up and made him turn around so his big, golden ass wasn't in my face, and went back to sleep.

  I've mentioned before that in my house, bathing is a process. Bobsie passing away last year gave me one less dog that needs a hair cut, but she was never the problematic one - she didn't whine and cause a ruckus that escalated to a full blown riot outside my bathroom door as they each tried to save their obviously drowning buddy. No, Bobsie was a ray of sunshine to bathe, especially compared to McStinky.

Bobsie, Perfectly Happy Post Bath

  The next morning, I looked at McStinky and said "You, Sir, are getting a bath today. The fumes emanating from your asshole could kill a cockroach."

  He looked at me with those big chocolatey eyes of his and sighed. He had no idea what I was saying, but I knew in a few short hours, he'd be pissed with me.

Can't you just feel the BIG gut heaving sigh in this one?

   My dogs, for the sake of convenience, have all been trained to jump into the bath when I give the "tub" command. It's nice, but it doesn't stop the drama. Bath time goes like this in my house.

"Come on guys, let's go upstairs."
*ensue stampede up the stairs*
"Good puppies"
*I close the bedroom door*
*in my very bestest happywhowantsatreat voice* "Who wants to take a bath?"
The reaction at this time is instantaneous. Heads go down, tails tuck in, and they all hit the ground like a ton of bricks... Let me tell you, even the little one weighs 100 pounds when she's trying to avoid a bath. How the fuck do they do that?! I've met toddlers who are easier to maneuver during a temper tantrum than my damned dogs when they need to be destinkified.

Bish whut? You said Bath. Uh uh.

So, yesterday, I tried something new. I went into the bathroom and sat down on the closed toilet. For whatever reason, my dogs seem to think that if I'm on the toilet they need to be in there. I can shut the door and they continue to bug me. They followed me in, at which time, I took Percy's collar and said "Tub, Sir." he looked mutinous. Then he looked hurt. Finally, he obeyed and stepped, ever so gingerly, into the tub and plopped down, defeated.

This. This is the look of woe I get every. fucking. time.

He moaned and groaned and sighed throughout the bath, shooting me tragic looks of woe and loathing, and then assaulted the towel when I started to dry him.

Percy thinks that getting dry is the best thing ever, from the wringing out, to the toweling off, to the forced air dryer, but his absolute favorite part is the big fat SHAKE he blesses me with as soon as I turn off the shower.

I've learned to bathe Percy in a bathing suit. Other wise, I have to change my clothes. What an asshole!

Anyway, now that you've heard all about poor Percy's bathing woes, I'll leave you with some of my favorite products for grooming - these are the same things I use on my dogs and my client's dogs, so if you're asking your groomer what (s)he uses that makes Fluffalicious smell so good for so long, the answer might be here! All products mentioned in this post can be found here. The photos of said items are also courtesy of Ryan's Pet Supply.

I'm a lazy groomer. Especially at home. If I can kill clean up for myself, I will. This brush makes my tainted little soul smile because instead of having to stab the shit out of myself on the stupid pins, I can simply push the button on the back, and the shield pushes the hair I've brushed out forward for me to grab off of the end, no pricking required.

When it comes to shampoo, with my guys I need multipurpose, so I really love Espree PlumPerfect. It's great for any coat type and color, smells fabulous, and has a decent dilution rate (16:1, meaning 16 parts water to 1 part shampoo. A gallon will last the average dog owner a year, it lasts us about five months.)

After a good scrub (or two, I always shampoo twice) you need to condition. I really like to use a super good smelling conditioner that is also beneficial to the coat. My favorite brand for that Best Shot's Scentament Spa... Currently my obsession is the Lemon Vanilla one. Again, this one dilutes down, the ratio is 6:1. Both the shampoo and the conditioner I've listed can be bought in smaller sizes - I buy gallons because they last longer.

I hate having wet ass dogs running around my house - for some reason they all feel the need to dry themselves on my bed (what the hell?!) or my couches... Or find the nearest open door and bolt out to make mud pies. In my home I use the B-Air Bear Power dryer. It's perfect for the home, and while it's not as high velocity as what I would use at work, it still gets the job done, and it's not quite as loud.

During the drying process, I generally spray my medium and long haired dogs with an antistatic spray, and my favorite is BioGroom's Antistat Flyaway Hair Control. It doesn't have a whole lot of scent to it (it IS lightly scented, but it doesn't cover up my amazing lemony vanilla goodness) and it works better than your average dryer sheet. It's also great for helping to keep out those stupid little dryer knots you end up with if you don't know what the hell your doing with a dryer. 

Last but not least, I love smell goods. Ask any of the groomers I've worked with and they'll tell you that I probably have a problem... OK, I DEFINITELY have a problem when it comes to these things. At last count I had over 30 different smells. I always end up buying one or two when I go shopping for any kind of grooming equipment. IT. SMELLS. SO. GOOD. This one matches my conditioner that I mentioned up there, with its lemony-vanilla goodness. I want to eat my dogs after I spray this on them (protip, use your brush after you spray your dog with this to move it around the coat and get a good coating of smell everywhere instead of just in little concentrated spots)

And with that I'll leave you with a picture of our beautiful new baby and one of her guardians

All My Paws,

Annie

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Shit Dog Owners Say Around the Holidays

    Oh my. It's that time of year again. The time of year when everything is glittery, sparkly and beautiful... For those of us who don't have dogs who are way too interested in the decorations. I know I'm not the only one whose dogs have gone batshit crazy over all this Yuletide shit and have forgotten all of their damn manners... My tree skirt is constantly caterwonky, I gave up on tinsel... Lights? PAH! No. We have them, but I am seriously remembering why LAST YEAR I hung my tree upside down from the ceiling.

This was our tree last year. I don't know why I didn't just do this again. Like, really.

This year, I was stupid and, for the sake of my four year old, bought a six foot monster to stand in my living room right where the dogs can fuck with it...

This is our tree this year, minus the larger skirt, because I've finally said fuck it. It's always wadded up into a dog bed anyway. 

 But oh, it's not just the tree they fuck with. Oh no, it is everything holiday related. Now, I know that this is just because they are naturally curious creatures, and truth be told, their antics when it comes to my decorations give me a giggle more than anything, but really guys, please leave the (now thrown away) poinsettia alone. It really WILL kill you.

Anyway, without FURther ado...

The Doofy Dog Blog Presents

Shit Dog Owners Say Around The Holidays

No, get your face out of the tree box. Those aren't fetching sticks, asshole!

Ornaments are also not for fetching. Please drop it... Gently. Damnit, no!

(Seriously. Glad I bought shatterproof this year... Ugh)

Is that the... How did you even do that?! I'm not even mad, I'm impressed (as we diligently disentangle our dog fromt he garland)

Mom, what have I done!? Help!

PLEASE DON'T CHEW THAT! IT'LL KILL YOU! (Poinsettia) 

Get the hell out from under the tree. It's not a place to sleep. It's a place to put presen.... awww you look so freaking cute. Just stay there.

This very special photo credit goes to my wonderful friend Amber Oertle at (c) Paws It Photography - this is my Bobsie right after my daughter was born, getting comfortable under Amber's tree. Sorry to get gushy, guys!

You're so cute in your little sweater! Awww! Hey wait! Don't chew on it!

Wow, I spent way more on presents for you than I did my family... Whoops.

WAIT NO! DON'T PEE ON THE TREE!!!

The stocking doesn't go on your head, genius. 

Didn't I already tell you that ornaments are not toys?

Can you please NOT try to climb the tree?

Is that an ornament... On your collar? How did you even do that?

Those aren't the kind of icicles you can eat, damnit, spit it out before you choke!

"Shut up. I'm awesome."

As cute as you would be as Rudolph, lights are not to be snorted. Please quit it.

 I wasn't standing under the mistletoe for you!

Don't open that present, it isn't yours!

What the hell is so interesting about wrapping paper?!

You have tape on your paw... Come here.

No, seriously. I know it's shiny and shit, but please leave the tree ornaments ALONE.

No! Don't lick the inside of the oven door! It doesn't taste like it smells, I swear!

Oh my god. I just groomed you. What IS that? Your grandparents will be here any minute now!

 Ok, quick fix... Where is your sweater? OH MY GOD WHAT DID YOU DO?!

Please leave the bows on your sister's collar. Please?

"Hello, Dr. X? Yes, my dog swallowed XYZ... Should I come in?"

What the fuck?! Do you seriously have another ornament?! Leave it!

Um. That's my eggnog. Please get off the table and get your nose the hell out of my cup.

Don't howl with the carolers. It's unbecoming and they don't appreciate it.

NO DAMNIT, THE COOKIES ARE FOR SANTA! HE'S GOING TO BRING YOU COAL THIS YEAR, YOU JERKS!

You know what? Fine. Play with the fucking ornaments. I don't care. Next year I'll put a whole bunch of fucking tennis balls on the damn tree. That's a fantastic idea. Asshat.

Also, Doom would like you all to know that aside from being a fucking bed hog, he is the perfect dog around the holidays, because he gives no fucks about anything but food, fetch, and rolling on the clean laundry while I'm trying to make the bed (He also, is an asshat.) (You may also notice a Bridget Creeper in this photo if you look for her.)