Site icon Nick Bradbury

My Dog is an Asshole

There, I said it. And I’ll say it again. Despite being cute enough to make the furry felines at LOLCats.com seem ugly by comparison, my dog is an asshole.

Oh sure, you’re probably saying, “deep down, I’ll bet he’s a nice doggie.” But you know what? When you have to say that “deep down” someone is nice, it’s because they’re an asshole.

We got him when he was a pup, and I named him “Calvin” after my favorite comic strip, Calvin & Hobbes. Like the lead character in that cartoon, our dog is always causing trouble, and he acts like he’s living in a fantasy world. Except that the cartoon Calvin was actually a likeable kid, whereas our canine Calvin is truly obnoxious.

Calvin constantly wakes us up at all hours of the night wanting to go outside, but when we open the door for him, he sits there and looks at us as though he’s saying, “you don’t actually expect me to go out there, do you?” Then he pees on the carpet.

He splashes his paws in his water bowl and treads muddy footprints all over the floor, then scratches at the empty bowl until we fill it up again. He torments every guest by licking their feet, and when we scold him for it, he starts licking the air around their feet instead, like he’s testing our resolve. And as soon as we start to pet him, he rolls over and exposes his private parts, then looks up at us hopefully (yes, he’s not only an asshole, but he’s also a pervert).

By comparison, our other dog, Gypsy, is one of the sweetest creatures you could ever meet. We picked her up as a stray, and every day she acts thankful for being taken in. Calvin, on the other hand, acts like he expected to be living with royalty, and is supremely disappointed at having to stay with mere commoners.

Late one night a few years ago, after everyone was asleep, an old guitar stashed away in some forgotten upstairs closet suddenly broke a string. Fearing it was an intruder, Gypsy (bless her heart) leapt out of our bedroom, ready to tear apart whoever was responsible for the ruckus. But did Calvin try to protect us? No. Instead, he jumped up on our bed in fear and planted his furry behind squarely on my face. As you can imagine, being awoken by a loud noise in your house and then having something hairy smother you is not a pleasant experience.

He’s clearly a defective dog, but it’s not like we can return him. We have to keep him, even though he steals food from our kids and barks at the slightest noise. I guess we’re stuck with him for the rest of his life (and just before he goes to meet his maker, I’m sure he’ll find time to poop all over the house).

Don’t get me wrong – we love our little Calvin, of course. But he’s still an asshole.

Update: It appears that Calvin has taken offense to this post and has written a response.

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