Disastrous Dog

I have ranted about my dog before. She is a fluffy Australian Shepherd who, based on her diet (previously ranted about), should be rather fat...but she isn't terribly fat at all. And when we first got her, my mom accidentally closed the sliding glass door on her head. This inevitably lead me to believe that she suffered some head injury. She has acted like a puppy ever since. To me, she was never the "brightest bulb on the Christmas tree".

The day we adopted her, we named her Lorie, after some place in Australia. But, in reality, Australian Shepherds are not from Australia at all, which pretty much defeats that point. So now, she has an identity crisis. Now, every time I hear her name I automatically think of Kelsy and Ashley's aunt, whose name just so happens to be Lorie (and who isn't actually their aunt), or of a truck...also by the same name. The latter is becoming more and more suitable. For if she keeps eating the amount of food that she does, it won't be long before we do have a dog the size of a truck plowing through our house.

Remember how I ranted about my dogs murderous appetite? Well, she's at it again. Last night she devoured the remainder of her dog food, which is also left carelessly in the kitchen. There was about a week worth of food left in that bag to begin with. And, since this animal has no concept of the word full, we have been trying to put her on a strict diet until it leaves her system. The proof in the backyard tells us that we were doing a great job, and I shall spare the details. (You don't want to read it, which is just as well because I don't really want to write about it either.)

Our family's progress with this crazy glutton came to a grinding halt this morning. I woke up to find trash scattered across the house, leaving a trail from the trash bag to her large sleeping area (she has 3 beds because she is incredibly spoiled as it is). We're bad at our job. Anyway, I find humor in this whole situation because in the trash, there was a sticker, which is now stuck to her face. At this moment, she is in my room at the foot of the bed, whining at me to pull the ridiculous looking thing off already and give her attention. Yes, she lives her days to make me feel guilty, like I have starved her of food and attention, and that is simply not true at all, sneaky little...Perhaps, she is not as dumb as I am often inclined to believe.