There is a dog trying to break down the door to my study.
It's not my dog, because this isn't my house. It's not really my study, either, even if I have buried the entire room in a snowdrift of BAR/BRI review books, homemade flashcards, and itty-bitty toy weights (which I use to wake myself up when the books and flashcards start putting me to sleep. The idea is that moderate physical exertion -- say, 30 bicep curls -- should revive my flagging attention, but I think pretty soon I'm going to move on to just bashing myself in the face with the weights, because nothing less can possibly counter the snooze effect of studying this crap).
Anyway, about the dog. This is possibly the second-densest dog I have ever met besides my grandma's walking hairball. This dog is so dumb that a couple of weeks ago it tried to eat not only my rat's food but my hamsters' food. I don't know how a dog comes to mistake dried alfalfa pellets for Super Tasty Yum Treats, but this one managed it, and spilled half the bag over the basement floor in the process. That was fun to pick up piece by piece, lemme tell ya.
This dog is, in fact, so dense that it actually thinks I am its friend. Mind = blown.
Every time I see this dog I look it directly in the eye and say: "Dog, I am not your friend." Seriously. EVERY TIME.
Yet because I made the mistake of letting it in from the rain half an hour ago, we are now best friends forever in Dogbrain Town. Or at least until the dog takes a nap and its brain reboots.
It's raining pretty hard outside and the dog is afraid of the rain and nobody else is home, so the dog is scratching maniacally at the door because, apparently, I am supposed to protect it from the Evil Thunder Gremlins. Or something.
Little does it know, if it actually manages to break the door down, a fate far worse than Evil Thunder Gremlins awaits: the wrath of the Multistate Outline Volume.
It's not my dog, because this isn't my house. It's not really my study, either, even if I have buried the entire room in a snowdrift of BAR/BRI review books, homemade flashcards, and itty-bitty toy weights (which I use to wake myself up when the books and flashcards start putting me to sleep. The idea is that moderate physical exertion -- say, 30 bicep curls -- should revive my flagging attention, but I think pretty soon I'm going to move on to just bashing myself in the face with the weights, because nothing less can possibly counter the snooze effect of studying this crap).
Anyway, about the dog. This is possibly the second-densest dog I have ever met besides my grandma's walking hairball. This dog is so dumb that a couple of weeks ago it tried to eat not only my rat's food but my hamsters' food. I don't know how a dog comes to mistake dried alfalfa pellets for Super Tasty Yum Treats, but this one managed it, and spilled half the bag over the basement floor in the process. That was fun to pick up piece by piece, lemme tell ya.
This dog is, in fact, so dense that it actually thinks I am its friend. Mind = blown.
Every time I see this dog I look it directly in the eye and say: "Dog, I am not your friend." Seriously. EVERY TIME.
Yet because I made the mistake of letting it in from the rain half an hour ago, we are now best friends forever in Dogbrain Town. Or at least until the dog takes a nap and its brain reboots.
It's raining pretty hard outside and the dog is afraid of the rain and nobody else is home, so the dog is scratching maniacally at the door because, apparently, I am supposed to protect it from the Evil Thunder Gremlins. Or something.
Little does it know, if it actually manages to break the door down, a fate far worse than Evil Thunder Gremlins awaits: the wrath of the Multistate Outline Volume.
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
then he will be totally submissive to you, and leave you alone whenever you say no in the future.