What the literal fuck.
I’m goddamn freezing right now, you guys. It’s fucking February and I have intentions of doing two things and two things only: licking myself, and sitting in front of a fire. And not in that order either. There’s a reason I’m shitting on the porch instead of in the yard, and that reason is because it’s cold as shit outside.
Because I’m a fucking dog, I can’t read thermometers and I don’t have an iPhone. The reason I know it’s cold outside is because 1. she makes me wear this stupid fucking sweater and 2. the ground turns white. If they hadn’t literally cut my balls off when I was just a pup, they’d probably shrivel into my kibble-filled stomach the second I take a paw outside.
Now, I’m no expert, but when it’s this cold outside, I don’t want to go to the damn park. But what did we do today? We. went. to. the. damn. park. And not just any park, oh no. This wasn’t the dog park where I’m king. This was the regular park where I get yelled at if I try to poop somewhere. There I was, surrounded by imbeciles covered in the same fabric that looks like my bed, watching them build snowmen and throw balls of snow at each other.
But worst yet? I had to pose for pictures. Again. Yes, even more fucking pictures. If you think it’s cold to walk in snow, imagine putting your bare ass in the snow and being told to “stay” there for an hour. My keister was freezing. Did she buy me a doggy sweater that covered my tail and tush? Nope, she just got me one that covers my chest because lord knows my chest gets soooooo cold.
I know I probably could’ve gotten in and out of there had I just been cooperative, but fuck that. I need to put my paw down every once in a while and assert my dominance over the situation – and I don’t mean in the pissing-on-trees sense. I mean in the, “This is my world and you’re just living in it” sense. Could I have just sat there while she snapped at me trying to get me to look directly into the camera? Yeah, sure, whatever. But I wanted to set the tone and convince her that if we’re going to do this moving forward, she’s going to have to work for it.
Sure, I didn’t need to look away from the camera and roll in the snow. But had I just stood there like an idiot, we’d be doing this type of thing every weekend and that’s not the type of life I’m trying to live. I know she’s only taking my photo so she can put it on Instabook or whatever. This isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve been in enough sweaters and stood in front of enough trees with stupid hats on to know that she’s not doing this for her scrapbook – she’s doing this for some random account she made me months ago in hopes of getting me famous.
But here we are again. I mean, yeah, I’m glad I didn’t have to play fetch this time but even running over and over again to the same ball is better than feeling the pads on my paws get frostbite with every step. If you’re going to buy me a stupid sweater, at least invest in some boots. Maybe if I get Snapstagram famous enough we can get an apparel deal with someone and I won’t have to suffer like this.
I can see her now. She doesn’t think I’m looking, but I am. She’s just swiping down over and over and over again seeing if using fifty hashtags will somehow get us a thousand followers overnight. Even I know that’ll never work.
Whatever. Maybe next time I’ll shiver the second I walk out the door and we’ll turn right around. Maybe I’ll poop on my bed again and go into timeout. Or maybe I’ll just run away. Okay, okay, I can’t do that because I’d never survive in the real world. But the point stands – I can’t just keep posing for pictures like this if it’s going to be this damn cold outside.
Now if you’ll excuse me, she’s coming this way with what appears to be a treat so I’m going to stick my tongue out and pretend I don’t actually hate her. .