Pashmina Is One Wicked Bitch

Now Roy always sides with Pashmina. Pashmina can do NO WRONG. It's always FIZZGIG's fault. This may have something to do with the fact that Fizzgig routinely requires Roy to get up in the middle of the night to pound on the back door and growl things like..."SHUT UP!" and "QUIT BARKING, ASSHOLE!" but I personally applaud Fizzgig for running off all of those 'possums and alerting us to any and all roaming transient pets. On the other hand...perhaps it has something to do with Fizzgig's need to piss on any upright standing materials of a questionable nature...for instance...the lawn mower. But nevermind that. Fizzgig is currently holding the Number One Title on Pashmina's Shit List. Either for being the cause of her role as a teenage mother or simply because he is a teensy bit annoying. Not to me, of course. But to others. Others like my husband, who has to put on plastic gloves and pick up dog shit in the backyard every couple of weeks in the hot baking sun. Or others like Pashmina who now has to contend with 4 squalling puppies who have GOT to be HANDS DOWN, the most violent sucklers I have ever seen. Either way. Everytime I go outside to check on my grandchildren, Fizzgig gets super excited to see me and starts bouncing around my feet...the same feet which happen to be standing perilously close to the newborn pupplets, which causes Pashmina to go absolutely apeshit. And what I mean by apeshit, is that she turns into a raving fucking lunatic. And how that coincides with the word...apeshit...baffles me as well. But you get the picture. Suddenly the shy and reserved Pashmina turns into a snarling, snapping, rabid, scary, evil bitch. What kind of mother is that, I say? So last night I went outside to peek on those four fat little nipple biters. And when I say nipple biters, I really mean they are nipple ravagers...no no...I mean...NIPPLE TERRORISTS. Anyway, I went out back to check on them and while I am TRYING to peek in the dog house, Fizzgig is making a total ass of himself, hopping around and dropping various dog toys at my feet. Shooing him away is a fruitless effort. Meanwhile, Pashmina was emitting the low and ominous warning growl, while the oblivious Fizzgig continued his clownish activity in a vain effort to gain my attentions. Poor guy. But finally, as a last resort, and since all of my attention was focused on the dog house and because Pashmina wouldn't shut up, Fizzgig committed the most CARDINAL OF SINS. The sin which would probably be the dog equivalent to one of the Ten Commandments. Which I believe would be Number Four. Thou Shall Not Leap Onto The Dog House While Your Dog Children Are Inside Lest Your Dog Wife Lose Her Freaking Mind. And at the point in which Fizzgig jumpeth onto the House of the Dogs, ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE. The scene was something like...me twirling around on my tip-toes screeching..."ROYROYROYROYROYROYROY!", Fizzgig leaning towards me precariously close to falling off of the top of the house and Pashmina turning into the Tasmanian Fucking Devil. For craps sake. It was mayhem. I swear I had a moment of lucidity in which I could actually understand Pashmina's barking frenzy as if it were human language and what I translated sounded something like this..."KILLYOUKILLYOUKILLYOUKILLYOU!" and also..."CRAZYBITCHISGOINGTOKILLYOU!"
I finally managed to save myself by throwing my body through the back door and falling into the kitchen table meanwhilst I kicked the door shut with a foot that was nearly losing it's sock. I peered cautiously out the back window and I could see Pashmina chasing Fizzgig over the entire length and width of the back yard with her teeth firmly attached into one of his ears but nevertheless he continued to run for his life hoping to shake her loose at some point.
And so it went for the better part of 10 minutes. And NATURALLY it was ALL FIZZGIG'S FAULT.