How to Mentally Unhinge Your Dog

January 25, 2011 § 1 Comment

Today, I was picking up small mountain ranges of dog poo in my yard while Muldoon pranced around a crushed PBR can, sporadically doing flybys around my legs to spray dirt all over me. Muldoon stopped at the sound of the neighbor’s truck pulling up and proceeded to wiggle like an epileptic fish until they came to the fence to pet him. Mr. Neighbor, who moved here from Texas- I guess because he prefers things smaller & not quite so great- asked me to look over his fence. He had two igloos in his yard and wanted to know if Muldoon would like one because PetSmart had apparently just thrown them away.

I looked at Muldoon who was absolutely losing his shit because someone said his name. Never one to turn down weird offers, I accepted the igloo, cleared out a small patch on the ground and put it down for Muldoon.

One 40 lb dog; half boxer, half beagle

Muldoon is an exceptionally smart dog. He could probably be in movies. He decided immediately that the igloo was some kind of dog torturing trap which would suck him in and disintegrate him with a mini, self contained nuclear blast.

He growled at it.

Then he pranced around the igloo, taunting it. I tried to introduce him to it by shoving him through the opening, but he fought me until he knocked me down.

I had an idea (and a dirty butt).

Innocent igloo; cheese and bacon flavored snack

I tossed a treat into the middle of the igloo. Muldoon looked at me like I had ruined his life. He looked at me like he thought I wanted him to die. However, he wanted that treat. So naturally, he immediately started digging at the back of the igloo. He paused dramatically every few seconds to throw me the most heartbroken eyes on the planet before crying and reengaging in the dig in a new spot.

Suddenly, something fell onto the igloo from the tree above. This could only be interpreted as the igloo charging its death ray in preparation to destroy all the dogs in the world, starting with Muldoon.

Muldoon’s feet never touched the ground. He’s been cowering under the end table since, occassionally whimpering like a nearly drowned kitten.

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