Perhaps you've watched one too many commercials for the Humane Society where you see those pathetic little faces and how they've been abused by idiots so you feel so sorry for them, you think you ought to just run right down to your local dog pound and pick up one (or a dozen) of those poor little sad mutts.
Now clearly, odes ought to be written to the generous souls who do such things, for in their sacrifice they embody all that is good and gentle in humanity (which, as we can clearly see in all forms of media, is the basest specks of minimal as the majority represents crudeness, selfishness and is bent on filling their gills with evil).
But, alas! I warn you, you fair of soul - do not be hasty!
Today I shall present to you empirical and shocking evidence and reason why you should NOT get a dog. Now, if you are weak in stomach, I advise you to look away as I expose such horrors. This is not for the faint of heart!
You have been warned.
What I am about to show you is the accumulation of a mere TWELVE hours. Twelve. It was all it took to make such a disaster as this. Go ahead - look. If you can stand it!
Ladies and gentlemen, this is simply what was on the non-carpeted areas. I must add that twelve hours prior to this photo of evidence, I was on my hands and knees scrubbing and washing the floors. There was NOT ONE piece of dog hair to be found anywhere when I was done.
I have a theory and I believe it has been proven true in my case time after time. It is this: when an area has been cleaned of dog evidence (whether that is fur in the house or excrement in the yard), there is something deep and even primordial within my animal that spurrs her on to inversely proportional destruction, not only replacing what she perceives was "lost" in that area, but to push it beyond the limits of what was previously there, and declaring that area more loudly than ever that A Pet Lives Here.
What on earth must she be doing through the night to fill the nooks, crannies, cracks and the majority of the floors with this amount of fur? Does she have a specially designed pet shaver that she employs for such desperate times as these? How is it that after this, upon the dawn of a new day, she seems to have ever so much fur as before, nay! To be even furrier! And yet, the floor is strewn with evidence contrary.
Do you find when you clean up your yard and you tie up the bag, as you sigh a sigh of relief knowing that you can walk safely without doggie land mines, upon that very exhale, your vision darts to the corner of the yard in absolute horror as your dog assumes the position, tail out, hunched down, and unloads an ungodly amount of a pile that you thought was never before in the realms of possibility? This, dear friends, is my weekly life. It is the ins and outs of daily life here in Petlandia.
So examine yourself carefully, dear ones. Search the depths of your soul. Balance the truth of evidence against the Humane Society's devious heartstring-pulling ways.
At the very least, I must declare - you have been warned!
Peace, love and I'm off to vacuum,
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