Tag Archives: Dog

I’m Sorry My Dog is an Asshole

27 Feb

Dearest Neighbors,

As a Chicago resident of three years, I have quickly learned what is and isn’t acceptable as a dog owner. Through the vast amount of learning experiences (including how to properly tie a poop bag) with our past 8 fosters and 1 forever dog, I am confident that, for the most part, I live up to the nominal standards you have come to expect.

But my dog… well, she’s just an asshole.

Look, I was never one for those “princess” dogs. I’m not a fan of putting bows in her hair, and I certainly didn’t dye her fur pink like a certain other dog owner in our building. Frankly, how we ended up with a chihuahua with blonde, flowing locks is beyond me. We started off with this awesome pittie mix, but here we are with the stereotypical, Paris Hilton dog. And for the most part, she lives up to the reputation her breed has instilled.

Maybe it’s because she’s Latina and she has yet to climate to the colder weather. Maybe it’s because we kept her name Vanna White (shelter volunteer gave her that because of her chirping and model-like shaking of her hair). Maybe it’s because her father coddles her. Whatever it is, we have turned Vanna, the chi, in to a real prissy monster.

So, here’s a blanket apology. We’re the damn dog and owner who continually leaves little pee ice patches on your sidewalks. And we are the unfortunate makers of the poop marks on the sidewalk. We’re also the dog and owner that have to take the elevator up two floors. We are that dog.

See, I feel shame. Every. Single. Time. Vanna refuses to touch her precious puppy paws on the snowy ground and instead finds a warmer spot on the sidewalk, I play it cool by pretending that I am not the one holding on to her leash. You’ve seen me out there. I’m the girl trying to hurry her up so we’re not spotted by other, better dog owners in our neighborhood. Yet, Vanna takes her precious time and then looks up at me with PRIDE. I have no clue why. She just loves to pee on the sidewalk.

As for poop, she’s a traveler. Not content to get it done in one spot, she’ll travel over 100 feet if she has to. No, she isn’t constipated. She just likes to make sure that every block of cement has been touched by her “gifts.” I trail behind her, head lowered, cursing under my breath, with a plastic bag and a broken ego.

I wish I could say that it will get better when Spring comes. But it wont. She equally hates the mud. And if it isn’t the mud, she’ll still proclaim herself too good for the grassy park and pop her squats on the public sidewalk. Even better, she’ll do it near the bus stop. She really hates those f-ing peasants who take the bus to work.

I cant blame it all on her. Of course, I know that I could force her pansy-ass on to the grassy patches or carry her to a designated spot. But have you seen a small dog just stand there in snow, shaking? No? Well, it’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen. And Vanna knows how to play it. It’s the same look she gives me when we try to force her to walk up or down our apartment stairs. It’s the “WTF do you want me to do!” or the “You’re the meanest people ever!” stare that gets teenagers out of jail.

I cant promise that we will do better or try harder to humble or shame her. It’s just not going to happen. That girl will piss all over the yellow brick road of the rainbow bridge if given a chance. I dont know why she would eventually think that the grass of Uptown would be much better.

For now, I’ll just pretend to be as equally disgusted as you are while she shamelessly defiles walkways after walkways. My dog is just that asshole. I’m sorry.



An Ode to the Dog Who Peed on My Shoe

11 Feb

Side note: Is it sad that I had to legitimately look up “what words shouldn’t be capitalized in a title?” Google and my cookies are ashamed. But seriously, I never know. Feel free to correct this title if something is miss-capitalized.

And now, a poem:

“An Ode to the Dog Who Peed on My Shoe” 
Oh dearest foster dog,
Animal child without a home,
You endear us to your plight.

You remind us of our humanity.
You shower us in canine joy. 
All the while, you spring forth
The fruit of your recent surgery,
The essence of much contrite. 
Suddenly, without warning.
It comes without request.
It flows without cessation.
It seeks the grass of pastures past.
The sprinkles of the puddles.
The golden shower of the carpet.
The anger of my depths.
It appears in the midst of night’s veil,
A serpent forming in the dark.
To be greeted upon in morning,
By unexpected, owner’s foot.
Smelling not of human origin
But familiar just all the same.
 A message to the master:
No more water after 8pm. 

Potty training: it’s a bitch. But, meet our foster dog: Francisco.


He’s number 8 in our long line of New Leash on Life Chicago fosters. He’s actually our first untrained dog and our first true puppy. We’re doing our best to stay patient and firm with him, but it’s super hard when your apartment’s carpet will most likely be polka-dotted with yellow stains for the rest of our stay. 

And poor Vanna White. She ain’t digging a super, hungry, snugly puppy being around. But she’s been pretty firm and assertive when he gets near her stuff (or my lap).

*Are you interested in adopting Francisco? Do you live within an hour of Chicago? Learn more about him and his brothers and sisters at http://www.nlolchicago.org or send me an email! I’m also his adoption counselor and would love to get him in to a forever home ASAP.

And dont let his lack of potty training scare you, this 10lb chi-weenie dog is the BEST. Very loyal, loving, and cuddly. He could lay in your arms forever. He is also picking up on basic obedience very quickly and is doing great in his crate!