An open letter to my crazy dog

Dear Psycho-Mutt,

When you only poop and pee outside, agoraphobia is not an option.

Yesterday, when you were refusing to go out, I didn't care. I wasn't the one with a potentially full bladder, and the holiday fireworks were freaking you out. Fine. But when you woke me up at 2 AM (small miracle that it was for me to be asleep by that point), I was annoyed. Still, I accepted that you hadn't been out all day, so I put on my pants (oh, the things I do for you!) and tried to take you out. We got half-way out the door when you froze. Sure, there were still some firework pops and the occasional drunken reveler wandering down the block, but nothing too terrifying. I carried you out and plopped you near a tree. But would you take the leak you so obviously needed? No. Instead you bolted back as emphatically as your 17 lbs could towards the apartment.

At this point I was pretty ticked. I knew the odds of me falling back asleep any time soon were slim at best, but I crawled under the covers and tried to comfort you as you nuzzled in, shaking in terror.

This brings us to 5:30 AM. I had actually fallen back asleep. I was dreaming that I'd eaten spaghetti for breakfast at a dining hall and then been late to orchestra (which is odd, since I haven't been in orchestra since high school) when through my soporific haze I felt paws on my face. You whined and jumped and clawed at the door. Not surprising since you hadn't peed in a solid 15 hours. So again I put on my pants and, after much coaxing, got you out the front door.

And thank goodness I did! You were pooping and peeing up a storm the moment you hit the grass.

But here is where my real annoyance comes in: when, at this insanely early hour, after having to practically drag you outside, you expected to frolic and play and go on a full walk. Are you kidding me? It is 6 AM. I put on pants for you. I interrupted my sleep not once but twice during a single night! You are lucky I got up at all, as I've been known to sleep through entire dorm fire drills.

This behavior must stop. If it does not, I may be forced to litterbox train you, and that's only for sissy-ass dork dogs. Now get the fuck off my lap so I can go back to bed.

Yours,
Annabell