I was confused, it was late and I was in a fog

When I fell in love with my husbands dog. (to the tune of "I ran over the taco bell dog," of course).

Because seriously, I have no idea what I ever saw in this dog. Maybe because I was in a house all by myself 4 days a week while B worked 9 hour shifts. Whatever the reason, I actually enjoyed the little shit known as "Kal-El." And I'm aware that I have SOOOOooooOOOOoooo many geeks reading this so yes I will tell you that he was indeed named after Superman. Although, he is quite the opposite.

Kal-el was one of many many chihuahua pups. My husband and his ex for whatever reason thought it was cool to breed them, which is fine. You don't find many pure bred dogs anymore. Problem being, nobody really cared to train these dogs. Sure, they had their puppy pee pee pads but it was a hit or miss type of thing. So when I moved in, THANK GOD B only had 1 dog left. This one. Whom I once adored. He was my buddy. He took baths with me and he slept beside me and we watched Degrassi and 16&Pregnant together. And Reba... he loved him some Reba. And he'd even snuggle up to Paisley while she was in my womb. WOMB. That is such a weird word.

Paisley (5 months old) and dog.

Fast forward. I gave birth to Paisley and awww howadorableshehasanolderbrotherrrr was flooding my mind. He was great with her. He kissed her and loved her and let her grab him and torture him. Until she was old enough for toys. Once toys came into the house, they became his target. The dog's favorite thing to pee on ARE MY KIDS TOYS. He hates Jasper, with a passion. Kal-El was never known to growl at family (besides my aunt and cousins who come over constantly... he hates them for some reason. Sorry guys). And now, PJ can't even look at him without him growling and snapping. I say snapping, althoug he has never ever bitten one of the kids. If he did, I'd be writing a blog about his funeral. But I'm not. I'm writing about my hatred towards him. I'M A HEARTLESS BITCH, right? Wrong. Something changes once you become a mom. I no longer live to protect my pet, I live to protect my CHILD. Ya know, the ones that came out of my own hole.

And in protecting my kids, one must protect their toys, too damnit. This dog has peed on every single item that belongs to the children. He's even recently taken to peeing on Paisley's bed.... yes, her BED. It's sad that I have to change her sheets each night before I lay her down. I don't want to say that I hate him with a burning passion or wish death upon him. I just want him to be trained. I want another family to be able to care for him in the ways that we cannot. It's too late to train him now. And I refuse to make him my first priority. He gets fed, watered, bathed (okay not very often but whatev) and we play with him and pet him. He even sleeps in the damn bed with us. I just wish he would be nice to my kids. "Oh but he likes them - he's just marking his territory." BULLHOCKEY. That is one pitiful excuse, people. My kids have been around for 10+ months... he doesn't need to show his love for them by growling and snapping. And for God's sake, peeing on their toys. Oh hey, I love you so much I'm going to urinate on your fork because I know it's going in your mouth and I want my pee in your mouth because that means I.LOVE.YOU." Now tell me when pee = love. NEVER I tell ya, NEVER.

Note: No dog or any other pet has been harmed in the making of this blog. Yes, he gets that dog behind spanked when he growls and snaps the kids but never tortured. Never thrown against a wall or lit on fire or beheaded. Obviously, because the little shit is still here to pee on everything.