Why I Hate Max
So, I worked for 9 hours today and thought I would come home, eat, shower, watch tv and go to bed. WRONG. Here's what I did instead:
That damned dog must have ROLLED in mud in the back yard. When I let him into the garage, he pushed past me and ran into the house before I could wipe him off. And of course, the son of a bitch went right to my brand new carpet and ran all through the damn house.....leaving dark brown mud stains everywhere he went. I finally caught him, and got him into the bathroom to give him a bath. But, as luck would have it, Max wasn't "in the mood" for a bath. There is now mud on the walls, the floor, the tub, the bath mat, my face, my feet, and my clothes. And I can't exactly pick him up anymore...he's huge. Every time I would try to put his front feet in the tub, he would push against the tub with is back feet. He was flipping himself around so I couldn't get a good grip, and then he would bark to scare me off. So, I did what any other woman in this situation would do....I bawled. As I was crying, he was just sitting there, staring at me...mocking me. He looked at me with eyes that said "Go ahead and cry, Josh is all the way in Illinois, he can't save you now". I then pulled myself together, and decided that this bastard was getting a damn bath. So I mustard up all my strength, and 10 minutes later he was in the tub.
He is now lying on his bed, and every time he tries to get up I spray Bitter Apple dog repellent in his face.
How ya like me now, bitch?
That damned dog must have ROLLED in mud in the back yard. When I let him into the garage, he pushed past me and ran into the house before I could wipe him off. And of course, the son of a bitch went right to my brand new carpet and ran all through the damn house.....leaving dark brown mud stains everywhere he went. I finally caught him, and got him into the bathroom to give him a bath. But, as luck would have it, Max wasn't "in the mood" for a bath. There is now mud on the walls, the floor, the tub, the bath mat, my face, my feet, and my clothes. And I can't exactly pick him up anymore...he's huge. Every time I would try to put his front feet in the tub, he would push against the tub with is back feet. He was flipping himself around so I couldn't get a good grip, and then he would bark to scare me off. So, I did what any other woman in this situation would do....I bawled. As I was crying, he was just sitting there, staring at me...mocking me. He looked at me with eyes that said "Go ahead and cry, Josh is all the way in Illinois, he can't save you now". I then pulled myself together, and decided that this bastard was getting a damn bath. So I mustard up all my strength, and 10 minutes later he was in the tub.
He is now lying on his bed, and every time he tries to get up I spray Bitter Apple dog repellent in his face.
How ya like me now, bitch?