Tweet You know how you try to kill something and it keeps coming back to life? Well, Satan the Dog is like that. Except I'm not really trying to kill it off. I'm trying to kill the memory of it off. There's a difference. One makes me a cold-hearted bitch that faces imprisonment in a horribly cold, dank cell that won't allow down comforters and the pleasant silence of watching HGTV in solitary confinement. The other just makes me a cold-hearted bitch.
So, Big V called.....
The good news is - he has found the dog a home! For sure this time. It's about an hour away and he will need to drive immediately to the kennel where the dog is currently being boarded (thirty minutes away in the opposite direction) and drive the dog to its new home. (Guess who gets to hurry home, get the baby from the nanny, tie him in the car, race to the sitters where Dotter is, race home, gather the Bean, take her to youth group, wait a half hour, drop Dotter off at her youth group - which, by the way, she's on the schedule to provide snacks. Joy. Pick them both up at 8:00pm, try to figure out something for dinner, change a few diapers, clean up mashed food off a highchair and stop the baby from eating things out of the garbage? Me. That's who. And I just love working after work. It's my favorite.)
So, Big V is taking the dog an hour away to its new home. But can we all rejoice?
No. Not really. Because, see there's the off chance that Satan might not get along with this guy's other dog. Being that he's been locked up in a kennel for the past few days Satan may have development some sort of anxiety or behavioral issues. As if the dog didn't have them before.
Our conversation was in a state of rapid decline when V defensively snapped, "I hate when you say the dog bit someone."
"But it did bite someone. It bit Josh in the knee."
"But it didn't mean to; it meant to bite Josh's dog."