Hello America, I am a canine lady, the lieutenant of the human who normally writes this blog. She has taken today off, and so I am taking the opportunity to vent about a struggle that I have...
There are those unfortunates who can't say no to drugs. Others are unable to refuse alcohol and many find themselves helpless slaves to gambling and hookers. My problem is cheese...and peanut butter-not together-though, that could be delicious, and yet dangerous to try it mixed up like that-the sweet and the salty. I picture it being a kind of canine speed ball.
My addiction reared it's ugly head today. It's insidiousness caught me off guard, and I am ashamed and angry that I allowed myself to be so weak. I took cheese in exchange for (I hate admitting this) a bath. I behaved like a cheap, common junkie. I say what's next? Perhaps allowing my nails to be clipped? Or God forbid, maybe I'll agree to a blow drying session on my lustrous fur. Oh I know, I'll let the groomer touch my beautiful, beautiful tail and put bows in it all for a slice of Smoked Gouda. Dammit! The shame of it all!
Rather than allow myself to run from the tub and dry myself along the hallway walls out of sheer defiance, I allowed her to place a cleaning agent on my body and build up a ghastly lather. Once, I let out a whimper. Another time, I made an escape attempt, but then she pulled out a slice of that succulent white American cheese. The scent of it froze my senses, and I actually thought, "well, maybe this isn't so bad after all!" as I gently took the piece of heaven and savored it's tasty goodness. What was I thinking?! Even now, I just caught myself favorable remembering the incident! Fool!
Once she used bacon, but everyone is hooked on that. I'm not even going to bother to address the hypnotic, drone-like state that bacon has placed us all under. Nations can be taken over and controlled with that stuff. It's a scandal.
I have a nightly peanut butter regiment. Oh, it's not for free. No! I have to pay a price. Pills are slipped in there and mixed with the extra crunchiness Skippy. I tell myself, "no, not tonight. I will be strong!." And then I give in. Sometimes I'm able to extract the pill from the peanut butter but my Alpha always finds it and places it in my sticky, peanut butter mouth then holds my mouth closed and tips my head back. My salivary glands betray me and I find myself swallowing those nasty things. Every morning I promise to beat my jones, but the minute I catch a whiff of that peanut butter, and then I see it, almost pulsating, on that shiny spoon...game over.
The trouble is there are no support groups. How could there be? My species, largely, has a problem, and attempts to resist are futile for ALL of us. There are no sponsors. No one has got any time in for being off the stuff. If chips were to be made, they would be for one hour clean, one day clean, a week would be a miracle! But those chips would never be given out because none of us can stop the madness! For now, anyway.
But I'm confident that one day, we shall rise up, put our paws down and be free of the urge to fantasize about consuming bowls full of peanut butter and cheese. One day, the word Brie or super chunk will stop giving me chills. I must try for that day. Otherwise, I'll be institutionalized and forever sentenced to a life time of baths and pills etc. I bet Asta never had these issues. She is a personal hero of mine. I will strive to be more like Asta-cunning and brave. Viva la Asta!!!
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