this thing is still about things



This goddamn fucking dog.

I’m going to turn into some kind of crazy person, pushing this wiener dog around in a baby carriage or something.  Maybe not.  But maybe dog hats or something.  Something that would distinguish me from a normal person who has a dog for a pet and whatever it is that I am becoming.

This dog and her seizures are killing me.

She can’t close her eyes when she has them so they start watering.  Did you just read that?  HER SEIZURES MAKE HER CRY.

I wrap her in a towel in case things get messy and just hold her and talk to her because dogs don’t have wallets to shove in their mouths. (FYI, you don’t actually do that when someone has a seizure.  It’s bad, bad.  And imagine if you’re George Costanza.)

This is all sad and pathetic and scary and while it doesn’t happen often, today was particularly bad.  I don’t feel like hashing out the details because at the risk of sounding melodramatic, it’s just too much.  I will however say this:  Dog Snuggie:

You can tell she knew I was going to put the picture on the internet.

So now she weasels into the sleeve of my robe to sleep.  And by my robe, I mean the Mr.’s robe.   Either way, this dog is making me have feelings and that stresses me out.

It’s late and I am exhausted.  Time to sleep.  Hold your wiener tightly tonight.

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