Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Anger Management

Enchilada is angry at me for a variety of reasons for which I am not in the least culpable:

1. It's not my fault they don't know how to communicate. They are not very precise with peeing times. I let them know I'm about to let loose and one of them thinks I want to play, the other one gives me food. Idiots. One of them is like a Swiss watch, and the other one has no sense of time. Then they give me grief because I pee inside (tiny droplets, mind you, by the stink they raise you would think it's Lake Titicaca). Between the two of them they are lucky their house is not a pee water park yet.

2. Did I ask for a leash? Whence this newfangled leash thing? I do not appreciate the stupid red collar with, are you sitting down? a little rattle bell. I sound like a mono version of Santa's sleigh. To add insult to injury, it's a cat collar, because the dog collars are too big for my neck.
What am I, an elf?
I loathe the leash. Before, I could just dart like a maniac (and I am fast) after dogs, pigeons, joggers, strollers, busy New York people texting. Cars? What are cars? I am fearless. And up to yesterday, I was free. Now they think they can control me with this instrument of torture. But I'm not stupid. I sit back, refuse to move, and the collar slides off my head, presto. That'll show them who's boss.

3. Enchilada thinks I don't know how she feels about me. She claims she has no life anymore. She's blaming me for her writer's block with her screenplay -- the nerve. She says she is bored and wants her life back. She claims she was perfectly happy without me. Then don't try to make nice when I come home, 'cause you hurt my feelings. I didn't ask to come here, and though I'm really digging it, she should take a chill pill. Enchilada is fun to play with (she's good at improvising toys), but she hates that I bite her toes. Next time, don't paint your toenails shocking pink, lady.

Just for the record: I am THREE MONTHS OLD. So excuse me if I don't yet master human, okay?  Excuse me if I can't make a dry martini and read Proust.
Has she deigned to inform you that I happen to sleep all night long? What human baby my age sleeps all night? Hey, what 3-month old baby is toilet trained? Exactly. Zero.
I rest my case.

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