I came home today to find a black chewed up piece of plastic in the middle of the living room floor. The dog was nowhere in sight. That sassy thing!
I approached the pieces…it can’t be, no, no, not the remote!
She chewed the remote. She chewed up the fucking remote! I trusted her. I thought it would be nice if she could lay on the couch all day. I spied around the room to make sure there wasn’t anything of value for her to chew up. She usually just likes to rip the stuffing out of plushy toys. Every damn day I pick up fuzzies and vacuum the damn floor.
The family is gone and I have the house to myself…and I was really looking forward to snuggling up on the couch with her and watching some shitty movie. And now she’s gone and ruined it. I could still watch a movie, but if it’s too shitty, I’ll have to stop snuggling and get up and switch the channel and stand awkwardly next to the tv until I find something suitable.
Remotes really are very convenient, aren’t they?
Plus, I don’t much feel like snuggling up with the scoundrel remote chewer anymore. I should take it as a sign that I don’t really need to watch any tv, that it is making me stupid, that I should find more suitable hobbies for a Saturday night, maybe call a friend and head out on the town. Normally I would agree with these signs.
I just don’t want to talk to any humans at all until tomorrow. I don’t. I talk all blasted day and I just want to shut the fuck up and flip through some shitty tv…and now the frickin remote is in pieces. I hope it was worth it, puppy.