Plotting to Kill…

Is it wrong, I mean, can I just vent for a moment, is it wrong to plot to kill the family chihuahua?  He’s not my dog; he’s their dog.  My girlfriend and her daughter‘s dog.  His name is Chico and he’s 13 years old.  He coughs like he has a 2-pack a day habit, pees wherever he wants, and has to be shooed off of the porch physically, or he’ll just poop on the porch, on the porch steps, on the daughter’s bed, wherever he wants basically.

I paid a $250 nonrefundable pet fee when we moved in here.  Mind you, we could’ve bought a whole new TRAINED dog for 250 bucks but whatever.  No one can hold him or touch him except those two.  Strangely though he minds me better than them.  Maybe because I’m alpha dog too.  He looks like he’s going to die at any moment, and has for the past year.  He can barely hear, especially if you’re calling him.  We have to buy ground up food because the few teeth he has left aren’t chewing teeth apparently.  Oh and he most closely resembles the dog in The Mask AFTER he puts on the mask except Chico doesn’t have that many teeth anymore, so they say.  He looks like this to me, however.

Image

We are contemplating moving and nonrefundable pet fees have gone up, to $300.  The daughter no longer wants him in her room because he pees on her while she is sleeping, thus prompting her to wash her bedding EVERY DAY last week.  So some nights she makes him sleep in the living room, where he cries and howls all night.

So sometimes, just because I can’t stop the thoughts, I stand in the kitchen and see him standing on the porch and I think, I could just give him a candy bar or leave the rat poison exposed and he would just go to sleep.  Life would be so much easier for him, less stress.  And for me…except the tears, because my woman is pre-menopausal and cries if I say anything, so imagine, just imagine, if her dog died, the dog she rescued 13 years ago, the dog who grew up as her daughter’s constant companion, her daughter who is about to move out on her own, and leave her dog and her mother behind.  *sigh*

Plus, I love dogs, miss having one of my own, would’ve died for my dog…but this creature, this animal, this snarling, growling, whiny, so stressed out he paces…click, click, click go his toenails on the floor…who makes me feel sorry for him, to the point that I think if only he would just die, he would be so much happier…and yet, I can’t do it, I’m crying typing this.

I’m the one who feeds him, who reminds them to buy food for him, who worries if he’s cold or if he’s hot, and yet he’s scared of me, practically bolts on catching sight of me, and loves them, those who ignore him, those who he pees on – he loves them, unconditionally.  They could pee on him and while he might look offended, he’d come right back to them and want to petted and loved by them.   I talk to him when they’re not home…’Chico, they only buy two cans of food at a time; they’re not even expecting you to live.  Run away!  Go, look for people who will love you!”  But he just looks at me like I’ve lost my mind and searches the doorway for their presence…those Gods he loves and worships…his people.

And he lives to see another day…

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