The little fucker
It was a scene I am ashamed of, but it happened.
Yesterday Skeeter went off for the afternoon without telling me where he was going. He came back about three hours later and there was a smell. I wanted to tangle with him but Boo-Boo was there so I just grabbed my plastic bone and gnawed away at it in rage. Then Boo left, off to some Festival of Artsy-Fartsy Films. I waited for a bit when he was gone because Boo has this infuriating habit of coming back about 18 times when he is going somewhere for forgotten keys, wallet, money, tickets, hat, glasses...you fucking name it. As I waited for this to happen, I gnawed even more furiously at the bone, throwing it around in the air. The fucking thing kept whacking me in the head when it came down and this only served to nurture my temper.
Finally, I was sure Boo was gone and stared at Skeeter in his fucking La-Z-Boy and it began.
L(eo): YOU FUCKING WHORE!
S(keeter): What the hell are you talking about!
L: DON'T GIVE ME THAT FUCKING SHIT, I CAN SMELL CATE ON YOU AND I CAN SMELL THE SLURP OF ANOTHER DOG ON YOU!!! MY FUCKING STARS IT'S EVEN ON YOUR FACE!!! DON'T DENY IT!
S: (Rather too calmly for my taste) I'm not denying anything; I went to lunch at Cate's and I met Mr. C.
L: MR. C!!!??? MR. C!!!??? SO IT HAS A NAME ALREADY!
S: Of course it has a name, it's her dog, idiot.
(I felt as if my head was about to explode. He wasn't getting it. He was just sitting there watching "Bargain Hunt" and ignoring me. So I roared. He'd never heard the sound before and it made him jump and finally he was looking at me, seriously.)
S: What is wrong with you?
L: You go to Cate's house and you let some fucking pound mongrel climb all over you and you let him LICK YOUR FUCKING FACE!!!
S: He can't help it; he has no teeth and his tongue is pretty much always slapping about. Kinda cute, actually—want to see the picture?
L: YOU HAVE HIS FUCKING PICTURE!!!
(He tried to show me the thing on his digital camera's screen but I was having none of this)
L: What else did you do with him? Scratch his belly? Play with his nose? WHACK HIM OFF??? WHATWHATWHATWHATWHAT!!!
S: I should never have let you watch "Precious"—you're so over the top—
(At this I went ballistic and attacked his beloved Doc Martens. He told me to stop, but I didn't. I went to town on those fucking boots. Finally he picked me up and when he saw I was going to go for his face, he held me away)
S: Will you fucking calm down!
L: It's one thing for me to lose Cate! But when my own start going over to another dog—
S: "Your own"?
L: DON'T YOU GET ANYTHING YOU SYPHILITIC FUCKING QUEER! YOU ARE MINE! MINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINE!
(He pulled me into his arms, more to control me than anything, then he said the one thing he shouldn't have:)
S: Are you jealous?
L: Asshole, asshole, asshole, asshole. You fucking humans get nothing. It's not jealous, it's not love. It's covetousness. What's mine is mine. If you stray, you have to be corrected. You know that word, don't you: CORRECTED!
S: (Pissed, at last) If you don't stop this, I'm going to correct you, little mutt, with a swift fucking kick up the ass. You can go for my boots when they're coming into your mouth from the other end!
L: (After squirming for a bit and realizing it would do no good as he had me in an inescapable hold) I never want to hear that slut's name in here again. Ever. And if you bring him here I will kill him, you and Boo.
S: I happen to think you'd like him and you'd be a bully if you did anything to him—he's only 8 pounds or so and nothing but bones and skin and, besides, he's very, very old.
L: Jesus, he's got you enslaved already! (And with this I let out a howl of misery that was deep, long, low and apparently annoying)
S: Oh for Christ's sake, shut up! You, and only you, are the king of this household and for all intents and purposes the king of everyone in it. If Mr. C visits—(I growled)—if he visits, it will be on your terms but let me tell you this, you need to calm down and get over yourself. You're bordering on the truly pathetic.
Oh! that shut me up and, to a certain extent, calmed me down. It is something you never want to hear about yourself, especially if you're a dog. So I just said, "Go wash your fucking face! You smell like you just came from a fucking puppy mill. You stink so bad I wanna heave." "That's enough," he said as he put me down and went off to obey me.
All sorts of bad things happened here: Cate has a new, "cute", dog; Skeeter likes him; I showed far too much of my emotions and maybe even led Skeeter to believe I...hang on...there's a little barf in my mouth as I write this...to believe I like him; I put on such a show that I became nearly as pathetic as that toothless, walking rug Cate now owns and who is, truly, the definition of "pathetic."
When Skeeter came back he said, "Have you settled down?"
"Just shut up, turn up the TV and let's never mention this again," I said as he pulled me up onto the chair.
Then he said, "Well, I love you too."
"Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutup...."
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