Monday, April 21, 2014

Romances are not cute when they're happening around you

When I met Pippi, she and another dog were running carefree down Boston Avenue. They followed me for a mile and a half.

I've wondered since then if Pippi regrets that. She was living the dream! Running free and happy, then captured and held hostage while her boyfriend is packed into a truck and never seen again. Did I break up a family?

Well, no matter how broken up she may have been about Sebastian, she seemed to get over it pretty quickly. See, my neighbors have a dog. She's gotten to know him somewhat in the past few weeks. Her type, incidentally? Unsnipped boxers. She likes the dangerous ones.

Her head is underneath the fence. He is licking her head. 
Aww -- adorable, right? Wrong!

There are a few problems with this scenario. One, I am not interested in puppies. Two, I don't want to ever have to talk to my neighbors, because right after I say, "Hey, your dog knocked up my dog," I'm going to say, "STOP PLAYING LOUD MUSIC/STANDING OUTSIDE WITH YOUR CRYING BABY/SCREAMING THE F-BOMB AT EACH OTHER WHILE I AM TRYING TO SLEEP!" Three, that hole under the fence, and all the other holes she and her canine love have dug/are digging under the fence, were not there when I moved in, and I don't feel like explaining to the landlord why the fence has collapsed. Four, I'm insanely jealous. Pippi moves in, digs a hole, has a boyfriend. Is that what I've been wrong? Should I dig more holes?

I thought I'd taken care of this problem with a few leftover bricks, but I heard her crying on Sunday and walked outside to discover Lady and the Tramp having a little moment around some nudged-aside bricks and a bigger hole. I cannot have this. I need to get her spayed, get rid of those lovin' feelings. My couch cushions would appreciate that as well.

But, since I can't take care of that in 20 minutes before I go to work on Monday, I just cut her off.

Not like that! Lady parts are on the inside. (Shout out to Mother Nature on that good call.) No, I did the ghettoest backyard landscaping you're going to find.

Holes filled and bricks lining the entire fence she shares with Romeo. Hopefully she does not now transfer her affections to the other neighbor's dog, which so far she has merely raced up and down the side of their respective yards with. This relationship I can condone.

So, my Juliet is without her Romeo. She's not going to stab herself over it because she's not a sappy 14-year-old (and I don't give her access to the knife drawer), but she's probably wondering just how many other relationships her spiteful old maid owner is going to scuttle.


Don't worry, Pipster. Pretty soon all dogs are going to be just like your asexual fence-racing buddy.

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