Can you train your dog to be a doctor? A lawyer? a baker? Spoiler Alert: Fuck no. This was all just an obscure lead in to get you to read this story because I wasn’t sure people would click on something called, “My dogs are stupid shitheads, yours probably are too.” I will warn you, this story is graphic, the images are even graphic-er, you clicked on this, I didn’t ask you to.
On days off the only reason I wake up before 9 is to feed the dogs, it’s not that they cant wait, they are just used to being on a schedule, and I feel bad if that schedule deviates too much. God, what a sucker I am. I will note here that my dogs have a background of finding things that aren’t for eating and well, eating them. Today was no exception. I noticed it too late, the dogs had already started eating when I noticed the mess of a mostly destroyed bag and it’s contents over in the corner of the living room. Oh, well, nothing I can do now. Let the gluttons out and go to investigate:
A bag of sugar? A fucking bag of sugar. They had somehow found a bag of sugar, and then tried to eat it. Bag and all. No biggie, at least sugar is easily dumped/ vacummable minus the bits that coagulated from the dog spit, but still, marginal elbow grease here. I’ll just go throw the bed out side when… I find this by the door:
At least they tried to run outside before they yakked this puddle. No they didn’t, dogs are stupid, it’s just convenient for ironic timing in the story. Not at all for me enjoying the moment, but it makes for a nice reveal. I go to grab a roll of paper towels when what do I spy with my little eye?
I figure I’d start with the usual approach, after all I’ve done this plenty of times before, and frankly, I find mild solace in the fact that none of it is shit this time. Throw some squares on the top just to soak up the liquid and I’ll double back for the solids. Figure I’d dump the sugar from the bed, I mean shit, this bed has gotten more sugar in one night than I’ve gotten all year! I return to the interior of the abode to clean up the sugar remnants that escaped the bed in a fit of passion. Some of the younger readers may not know, but this house was built in the era where people thought central-vacs were a good idea. Heads up, they’re not. But basically the vacuum is built into the walls with ports installed throughout the house you plug the hose into, which you have to drag around and is in no way easier than just dragging a normal vacuum around. Anyways the real problem is something got stuck in the downstairs port, could be anything, hair, a rare coin collection, a dead child eating sized rat, who knows, but point is the clog is in the walls and short of tearing down the house, it’s never getting fixed. Now I have to run the hose from upstairs to downstairs winding throughout the house in a more convoluted path than a farmers fall corn maze. But I endure. I then notice the ‘ol P Tows haven’t been absorbing anything and a quick wipe action shows why:
The dogs ate so much sugar it basically turned their stomach bile into vomit flavored frosting. I have plenty left if anyone is looking to make an “amends” cake for their mortal enemy. I check all puke piles, yup, all gelatinous. I guess at this point my dogs are qualified as amateur confectioners, which I guess means the title wasn’t a complete mislead… People go to school for that shit. At this point I also notice:
The house is riddled with ants, going ham on the only thing in the known universe sweeter and grosser than Starbucks’ flavored coffees. Their queen may be happy with their endeavors but I am not. Good thing I have a bottle of potent ant killing spray and lets just say any ant survivors aren’t bringing back diabetes to the colony anymore, they’re bringing back Hiroshima scale fucked up genetic code. I’ll spare you with the graphic details of the rest of the clean up, but I will say that even as I write this the house is riddled with wafts of funfetti Oreo filling, and it’s fucking disgusting. Looks like the Dogs just became outdoor dogs, and I don’t feel bad at all.