She dogs

I was mad at Freckles because she ate my flipper. Well, she didn't swallow it but she chewed the hell out of it and it took me three days to get a new one. She thought we were cool because I gave her grilled chicken. But now when I have extra pieces of poultry I feed them to the trash because we're not friends anymore. She kept on begging me to forgive her with her twinkling brown eyes and hair the color of mine. She almost broke me down. Mom said to chill it on out, give the bitch a break. Freckles is just gonna have to suffer.

Maybe I over reacted, but you know how I am. Anyway, this morning I was brewing my Columbian dark roast and since I barely had my eyes open I didn't notice the puddle of blood on the kitchen floor. I nearly busted a bone when I slipped on the petite pond of ruby fluid and landed smack on the arse. When I realized what the substance was I thought someone had been wounded and immediately began searching for a corpse.

Okay I didn't really begin by looking for a corpse. You know I had to drink my coffee first. (Jesus, I really have become my mother...) After I finished the cup, I embarked on my mission, which lasted all of 79 seconds since there was no one in the house. Well, except for the dog, who was giving me her sanguine stare and I noticed there was a trickle of blood on her paw. At that point my roommate walked in the house and when I told her the dog was hurt, she checked it out and simply said that it was Freckles' time of the month.

I guess I never really gave it enough thought but I didn't consider the fact that a dog would have a menstrual cycle. Unlike humans, they aren't able to hide the liquid with sanitary napkins and tampons. They have to wait for their owners to come mop up the linoleum.

You know what? I used to hate dogs. It's because one tried to bite my hand off when I was a first grader. Even though the dog had one of those cones around it's neck to prevent it from eating people, I just wanted to see what would happen. I still have all my fingers, thank god, but I have since castigated the entire canine race. (I was also once attacked by a duck and cow, but that's a different story...)

Oh, and here's another thing. I thought I knew some young mothers, but dogs are taking the cake. Freckles is only two and they already have her shacking up with the neighbor. If you ask me, Freckles could do better, but these fools are desperate for grandchildren and started mating her with the first dog to line up at the doorstep.

It was a wee bit freakish, too, to hear the kids talk about it. They got so excited when the dogs began procreating. "They're doing it. Yay, they're doing it!" If I were a dog, I would have wanted a little more privacy. Imagine if your family were in the next room the first time you started having sex and they were out there cheering you on. Isn't that disturbing?

Me and freckles are cool now. But you wanna know what's messed up? Every time my mother calls to see what I'm doing she doesn't ask about me, she asks about Freckles. Dang, you know it's shady when you're own mom's trying to replace you with a dog...