Warning -Strong Lanuage Ahead

I'm mad at my husband because I hate the dog.

I know it's not fair and she's really a very good dog in many aspects. She loves everybody and I mean everybody. She's supposed to scare off thieves and kidnappers which I think she probably does a pretty good job by just being there. On the other hand, the bug spray guy came a couple of weeks ago and, without even a warning bark, she nuzzled right up to him and became his best friend.

But she digs and runs away. I really hate that. My neighbors hate that. My neighbors directly behind me really, really hate that.

This morning I gave her 10 minutes in the fenced yard to get out her wiggles before I put her in her dog run while I went to work. In those 10 minutes, she left. I had to walk around the backyard calling to her and happened upon her nose, yes her NOSE which was sticking through a hole under the fence.  She'd dug herelf into the neighbor's backyard and couldn't get home. Already mortified, I had to go to the neighbor's house and let her out and then she ran away.

You understand we had preschool and work to attend yet now I had a dog on the lam. With the help of a construction worker pointing which direction she'd taken, I corralled her into the car. Then I had dog hair on the seats. I beat her. That's when I started feeling angry at my husband and sent him a text. "I hate your damn dog."

After work and the kids came home, she was allowed out of the dog run again. She's a big dog and needs time to run. Next thing I hear is one of the children announcing she was in the neighbor's backyard again. Now I am beyond mortified. They have a hole and no dirt to fill it in. I sent the 10 year old boy to get the dog who then returned the favor by running away again.

There I am again, trolling the neighborhood for the dog, along with 6 or 7 children when I really want to climb in a hole. This time I'm leaving obscene messages on my husband's voice mail, demanding he do something about his damn dog.

My son found the dog again. She shed in my car again. I beat her again. Mr. Taylor called, sorry he couldn't answer the telephone, he had a client. I unleashed my fury and demanded he install an invisible fence or some kind of containment RIGHT. NOW. Stop at Petco, PetSmart or whatever pet store but make sure she gets a shock when she tries that crap again. I also expected a full apology to the neighbors. I am too mortified to meet their eyes.

I called my sister at work. She was swamped with students but came to the telephone when the secretary mentioned her sister called and wanted to talk about damn dogs. She's a professional dog hater. She bought some kind of shock treatment collar that is kindly marketed as "invisible containment."  She doesn't hate her dog anymore. She got a great deal of satisfaction shocking training her dog around the perimeter.

The invisible containment set was out of stock and Mr. Taylor came home empty handed. Okay, he bought her a new collar but it didn't have electrodes or spikes. I know because I checked. And so I rehashed the dog issue all the way through dinner and a half hour after, too. For some reason Mr. Taylor suddenly needed to run a couple of errands. He may have mentioned something about PMS. Maybe there is some going on but I wouldn't know because my cycle means nothing to me anymore. Apparently, it impacts him much more than I admit to it impacting me.

Then he started talking about how he needs to train the kids to be more careful when they let the dog out and keep an eye on her. Really? He wants to blame the kids? The 10 year old boy who recognizes the danger of opening the front door when he comes home from school so he only opens it far enough for him to slip through and the dog still slides under him and out the door?

I realize I am omitting all of Sunday's pleasant personality qualities because she really does have them. I'm just mad that I had to deal with a delinquent dog that wasn't my idea. I had the amazing opportunity to look like an irresponsible dog owner when she escaped TWICE into someone else's yard and got stuck there. I was the one trolling the neighborhood looking for a big, happy dog who just wanted to make friends with the neighbors, strangers, and even the questionable characters.

In my utter frustration, I spent all of dinner discussing how much I loathed her and if we (meaning Mr. Taylor) couldn't figure out a way to keep her in the yard, Sunday would have to find a new home. I got arguments and hate daggers from my older children. My 5 year old who, while on vacation, spontaneously started crying and sobbed how much he missed Sunday, his favorite dog and best friend, suddenly perked up with the opening slot for a new pet. He wants a gerbil.

Now that I'm thinking more about it, I hate all the researchers who insist that dog ownership increases children's I.Q. Yet, so does plant ownership. I'm going to buy my children a palm tree.

In Hawaii.

And I'll go visit it.

Goodbye.