Tag Archives: dogs

Murder mystery book covers of pets who totally did that shit

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Don’t mind me. I’m just learning about your deepest fears so I can orchestrate the symphony of your untimely death.

Unless you buy me better cat food. Seriously. It wouldn’t kill you if you went here every once in a while.

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“Hey you wanna know what’s also by the bay? That body I maimed” – The dog

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The recipe requires just a dash of your blood—and by dash he means 3 pints.

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“Yeah. We did it. And we sipped on that sweet ass tea when it was over too”

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“Nothing to see here. Just a poodle selling flowers. What’s that? You want to go inside? Nah you don’t wanna do that. I got all these flowers out here! Look! I got…these pink ones…and uh I think these are lilac–what? You still want to go inside? OK just…um…I spilled a ALOT of red Kool Aid in there and it’s kind of messy…”

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OMG. GUILTY AS FUCK.

The 80 Cats Phenomenon

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Every year we are bound to run into a news headline like the one I saw on my Twitter feed today:

My first thought should be that the story is sad on multiple levels for the hoarders and pets who lived in squalor. Unfortunately, spending multiple years in journalism has severely depleted my compassion levels and my brain just simply isn’t wired like that anymore. It’s only wired to have the same reaction every time I see this story:

Why is it always 80 CATS?

Not 50 cats. Not 200 cats. Eighty cats. Every. Single. Time.

If you don’t believe me, type in “more than 80 cats” in a Google search. Below is only a sample of what you will find (most of these were just in 2011):

 

 

 

It should be noted that these people *willing* chose to have that many

 

 

Approximately 80 cats are apparently every home’s threshold for a contained atmosphere of feces, hairballs and general life failure before it seeps through an unsealed crack and into the air we breathe. Only then do we call animal control.

When the number crept up to 50 did neighbors say, “Well there are a shit ton of cats here but…I think it will get better”? It doesn’t get better after 50 cats. It wasn’t going to get better after 20 cats. Yet for some reason the number has to hover around 80 before any action takes place.

 

Unless THIS woman is your neighbor. Then you clearly get a pass

 

The Sharper Image of the Skies – Part 1

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One of the twin roomies and I took a flight en route to a very relaxing trip in Austin, Texas this past weekend. Despite being in the FML boarding group for our flight we lucked out and were able to get seats together. Before we even buckled our seat belts our eyes locked with the back seat pocket and we both exclaimed the following two words in unison: “Sky Mall.”

Sky Mall is the standard in flight magazine filled with a bunch of gadgets and ideas that either leave you shaking your head in disgust with America’s laziness, upset that people are capitalizing off of your laziness or angry with yourself that you never put the patent on self-cleaning diapers when you had the chance.

This is a three part series on some of the more ridiculous things I found in the summer 2010 edition of Sky Mall:

Part One: 3 Signs You No Longer Love Your Pets

Tell Whiskers I said good luck on her diving mission. I don’t know many felines who are big fans of water–let alone being submerged thousands of feet beneath sea level–but damn she’s brave.


Wait never mind. Are you shooting her off into space? I’m sorry I couldn’t tell because apparently you thought it was okay to put your cat in some type of claustrophobic piss pod. Pooping is an uncomfortable action that in an ideal situation is done in a comfortable setting. If the cat is trained to use the litter box then why make it more uncomfortable? They couldn’t even photoshop a happy looking cat into this photo.

Embedded sprinklers? Water timer? This is entirely too much maintenance when a walk outside of your building would suffice. If you were too lazy to take the dog for a walk what makes you think you’re going to clean that $300 dookie turf you just bought? I will laugh when Sir Woofs-a-Lot rolls around in a concentrated piss mat because he doesn’t–and shouldn’t–get the memo that this is supposed to be the equivalent of a walk outside.  This was the third one of these in the same magazine, FYI. (By the way, I would never name my dog Sir Woofs-a-Lot–especially if I tossed this magazine to leave it and he ran up quick to retrieve it).

If you potty train your cat before your own child you kind of deserve to have your child taken away. The child won’t be removed permanently, mind you, but just long enough for you to get your head straight.

If you agree to own a cat, you are making a verbal agreement with your conscience that you will be scooping crap on a consistent basis. That’s part of the deal. Remember that you’re the one who thought the companionship was worth a shit (pun intended).

Also you’re just creating even more competition for the bathroom in the morning before work. If they figure out the toilet they’ll start figuring out other things like door knobs and even worse, door locks.

Perhaps if you hadn't fed me that generic Fancy Feast you would have caught your train

Milo the A-hole – Part II

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In a previous post I copied and pasted an e-mail from my friend Shyv who wrote about how the family dog, Milo, typically drives her crazy but was somewhat well behaved in her parents’ absence while they were out of town. However, this is the aftermath that occurred when her parents returned from their trip:

from shyvonne
to Natalie, Becky
date Thu, Oct 1, 2009 at 11:59 AM
subject The Dastardly Deeds of Milo

Hello and welcome to another episode of Milo the Craphead

I thought that you would like to know about how my theory was going. If we don’t remember what the theory was, I’ll remind you. If we revisit the time when I was watching him sans parents in the house, we had barely any destruction to be seen. So I hypothesized that when the parents are home, thats when the demise of anything cotton related or tissue box related meets its downfall. AND OH HOW I WAS RIGHT!

Since our last update I just wanted to give you a break down of how many brave items we have lost this past 2 weeks:
Mom has now gone through 3 tissue boxes. We still aren’t sure what Milo’s agenda is against tissue boxes. I have been investigating this matter. So far.. squat.
Mom has now lost 2-4 wash cloths. Again, why are the big towels left alone and the wash cloths have to preyed upon? Another mystery for me to ponder.
Milo puked on the rug…. I have nothing to say about that.
And finally, Milo has successfully pillaged my room and got a pair of my underwear. A Victoria Secrets underwear. We. Are. Not. Pleased. Dad found it lying in the middle of the hallway with a fatal wound. The poor things were laid to rest in my mom’s trashcan. Why did that happen? Oh because mom forgot to close my door after the carpet cleaners came in and my closet was cracked. All he needs is a crack and the rest of my clothes are history.

Funny quotes by Dad: “Jean have you see my white underwear? Are they in the wash? (mumbles to self: “I swear I just bought a new pack”)
Mom: “….What? What underwear?” <-- knowing full well what's been happening... Dad's underwear is a favorite delicacy of Milo. The Underwear Nabbing Dog. Now the Jerk is looking at me, staring at his treat drawer, looking at me. I think he’s trying to ask me for a treat. You’ll get nothing over here you chewing trash compactor on 4 hellish legs. Oh he finally gave up. He just snuffed at me and ran upstairs as if he was saying “Useless”. Just another day in the War Against Milo. Thank you for tuning in. Catch you next time, same bat time, same bat channel.

Milo the A-hole

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My friend Shyv is back home in south NJ now b/c she’s going to grad school in Philly and she has to deal with her parents’ dog, Milo, who we’ve heard stories about being the biggest a-hole ever. Her parents are out of town and so it was just her and Milo. Becky & I said we wanted updates about his antics and this is what she sent:

———- Forwarded message ———-
From: shyvonne
Date: Tue, Sep 15, 2009 at 2:02 PM
Subject: Milo’s Mischief Review
To: Natalie , Becky

I figured you wanted an update on how Milo & I’s 5 day bonding session was going. It is an odd thing to say that nothing disastrous has happened since my parents left for AZ. There have been no fatalities. No random pieces of inanimate objects strewn about the floor for me to clean up. It’s been surprisingly peaceful. The most he has done is follow me every which way around the house. So here are the only annoying occurrences to date that I found in his trapper keeper of evil plans:

* Our favorite time to eat breakfast is 7:45am. If we do not get our breakfast at said time, we like to run around the bed repeatedly until Shyvonne wakes up. Or we use or claw like hands to scratch at Shyvonne when she rolls over. Desperate measures (which were taken this morning): is when we need to jump up on the bed and lick her insessantly. God forbid she moves even the slightest around this time because that means she’s up right? The annoying can commence?

* We don’t understand the concept of stretching before running. You’re on the ground so that must mean you want to play right? Oh look your sneakers… you want to put them on? Here allow me to chew them off your foot.

* Walking on the treadmill must mean 2 things: a) you want me on there with you or b) you’re almost done so you want me to lick that sweat off… oh look there’s those sneakers again. How did those get on? Here I’ll get those for you. Why are you hopping on one foot to get that sneaker away from me? Bring it down here or I will claw you to death.

* You climbed back into bed. I can see the bed now so I guess it’s time to take a nap up there. Oh are these your feet? Well they’re in my spot. Allow me to kick at them until you move them. Thank you.

* There will be no youtube videos while I’m napping. Violation of this means I look at you funny and then we get into a fight. You woke me up, not my problem.

So nothing too terrible right. That’s what I’m thinking. If I find shredded stuff after Thursday, I’m convinced that it’ll have to do something with my parents because there has been no shredding of personal items since they left. No tissue box demises. No towel decimation. Nothing.

Well I hope that was entertaining for you. Sorry theres no warbling or yowling involved. I’m sure he’ll get into trouble once Jean & Mike get home.

Peace, love, and doggie treats,
Shyvonne