One rainy day, we got a knock at our door. We had no idea what disaster awaited us. There in the arms of a neighbor was a wet rat that attacked my highly sensitive olfactory senses. Yes. It smelled like a wet dog. But it couldn't be. It weighed no more than a couple pounds. The only dog I've heard of that falls into that wimpy category is the hot dog. Somehow, the thing made its way into our house and into the Zen's bed. Once it dried out, I could see that this mini-monster was a cross between a miniature hyena, one of those Mexican hairless dogs - but it had hair - and a possum. I know my grandma has eaten possum, so I figured it was probably headed to her house for supper. No luck. I woke up the next morning and the beast was still in our house. Don't get my wrong. I believe in helping the homeless and I would have gladly handed over my outside doghouse to the creature. But it was IN OUR HOUSE. Worst yet: Zen had fallen in love with it. Well, it turns out that "it" is a "she." a Real She. With ovaries and a uterus. Yes, a real bitch. I'm about six times her size, yet she eats as much as I do. I think she can eat like a horse because she constantly runs in circles - to the right. I thought: Maybe she belonged to a Nascar fan, but she was spinning the wrong way. So she eats like a horse and exercises like that Commie broad Jane Fonda. And the worst? She brought fleas. I have NEVER had fleas. My pristine body didn't know what to do. Mom and Dad pay big bucks for our flea and tick meds, but she must house some hybrid flea that developed on the hind-ends of hyenas, because they live right through the dagnabbed meds. One good thing: She's not allowed on our bed. That's just for Dad, Mom and me. Lately I'm worried she's trying to steal my identity. Identity theft is a big deal these days. I've thought about signing up with Life Lock. The hybrid beast follows me around the house, sniffing my rear. When I go out to potty, she puts her head so close to my privates I'm afraid I'll pee on her (she's probably investigating what makes me tick.) When I'm finished, she hikes her leg (yeah, what girls do that?) and covers my urine with hers. Another strange thing. When somebody knocks on the door, Skittles (that's her name) attacks me like I'm waking her from beauty sleep (she needs it) or something. She bites at me. Relentless. First, what do I have to do with the folks who knock at our door? She's trying to steal my identity I tell you. I used to do the watchdogging. I think I call Life Lock before it's too late.
