Tuesday, March 12, 2013

It is a dog act..


The Oscar for most dramatic performance by a canine after visiting the vet goes to...

This dog.



She is KILLING me.. With the sighing, and the sprawling out dramatically on the lounge and the licking her wound EVERY time you ask her what the vet did..
 The feeble attempts at moving around every time she knows someone's eyes are on her, the refusing food so long as someone is watching, the mournful cries whenever someone stops the patting.



The forlorn and rejected look in her eye when she must retire to the laundry for the night.. The scratching on the laundry door when her blanket is disturbed in a way that makes it uncomfortable... 


the digging up the vintage lounge to bury various pieces of food found in the chook bin, making the overnight confines of the laundry necessary, the FARTING..


The not drinking unless I take the water bowl to her and place it UNDER her nose..



The panting. The grimacing and wincing on the stairs when she is taken out for a whizz, The getting on. Of the beds...
The knocking everything over with her excited weapon of a tail, like a large rolled up newspaper, banging and whipping when I wake and let her out of the cell (laundry.)

 The  creepy stares through the shower curtain, you know.. Just in case you forget she is in constant agony when you shower... The whining at the toilet door.. For.. I don't know why. Separation anxiety or some shit...
The desperately eyeing of every meal that passes your lips...



The laughing at me the minute my back is turned and she gets to spend another night inside, whilst I fetch her water, fix her blanket, feed her from the table and pat her bald.

The Oscar for most enabling owners in a canine drama series goes to.


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