Sweet mother of Midol, do I ever have some cranky bitches around my house lately. Bitches, by the way, is meant in the purely animal husbandry sense of the word, in that I’m referring to the fact that every intact girl dog in my house is currently in the beginning, middle or end state of heat. Oh, and in case you were wondering (and come on, admit it, you were) yes indeedy, girl dogs sure do get moody (and no, you can’t slip Midol into their food).
Everyone is fighting with everyone, Elliott (who arrived here from Michigan last week, and likely had something to do with kicking off this festival of progesterone induced frenzy) is losing his mind, and my floor looks like the operating room in a M.A.S.H. unit.
To quote the immortal South Park commercial parody, “It’s like that scene from the Shining, where the elevator doors open..”.
God, I hate having intact bitches. Hate, hate, hate. I have some breeding plans for two of the evil little wenches, but I’m not going to talk about it, for fear the cruel and heartless breeding Gods will read it, laugh, and screw me over once again.
In the meantime, pity me, send swiffer wet jet refills, and watch this Youtube video, unless you’re all uptight and humorless, in which case the first part of this post was probably enough to send you screaming off to send an irate “Dear madam, I find your blog quite appalling” email. It’s ok, it’s been at least a week since I’ve had one of those, so I’m due.