Pets: They Hate Me.

Animals are great. They love you unconditionally, provide companionship and are always so legitimately happy to see you. But most of the time, they annoy the fuck out of me. Mostly because they’re always in the way and ruin everything. I grew up always having dogs, I love dogs! As long as they’re not mine.

But when my ex-boyfriend and I moved into our very first apartment together, we decided to get a puppy.

Worst.Decison.Of.My.Life.

I agreed to get the dog because I thought it was going to be fun to build a little family and who doesn’t love a puppy??

Expectation:

This thing hated me. I should have returned it the minute we drove all the way to Logan to pick it up and it was covered in its own shit. The ex-boyfriend immediately bonded with it and I swear to god trained it to ruin my life. This thing literally was out to get me from day 1.

Reality:

I will say, he had great taste. He would only chew on Coach, preferred my brand new push button recliners over puppy chow and ate Victoria Secret thongs like they were fucking steaks. Needless to say when the ex-boyfriend and I broke up I let him take the dog – I got the furniture.

A couple of years later, when I moved to Malden, I got the itch for a pet again. So naturally I decided to get a bunchilla. For those of you who aren’t aware, a bunchilla is a little ball of hate that is half bunny half chinchilla. I named it Ray Pruitt after my favorite 90210 character; the one that sang “How Do You Talk to an Angel” and beat Donna Martin.

ray-and-donna

This thing hated me almost as much as the dog did. It kept breaking out of its cage and I would find it hiding in my crock pot. It would have rather become bunchilla soup then be my pet. Eventually I got so sick of it trying to kill itself that I gave it away to an Asian family I found on Craigslist.

Moral of the story: don’t eat chinese food in Malden, because it’s probably Ray Pruitt.

post-9708-Asian-baby-with-puppies-68JP

I don’t have a pet right now, though I kind of want one again. My sister told me I might as well get a cat since I’m a 28 year old single girl living alone, so people probably already assume I have one.

Whatever. I’m saving for a jelly fish tank. They can’t hate me because I don’t think they have brains. And they also can’t run away or try to cook themselves.

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