taking the passive out of passive-aggressive

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

It's garbage day and that damn border collie Bert has struck again.

I come out of my house all ready to sweep the car off and there's my garbage, all over the street. Dirty diapers, beer bottles, empty packages of cereal and meat, strewn across the lovely snowscape of Matterhorn Lane.

"FUUUUUUUCK!" I think to myself, but don't say it. Instead, in the tradition of martyrs everywhere, I pull on a pair of rubber gloves and sigh, loudly, hoping someone will hear.

Luckily enough, one of my neighbors was walking up the street, having parked his car downhill in anticipation of the storm. Unluckily, though, he is married to the most maniacal "Bert Fan" on the street. The woman who speaks about Bert more fondly than she does her own children. The woman who, though she does not own Bert, put up the fliers all over town, hoping for his ill-fated return.

I sigh loudly again for this husband's benefit. He looks at me quizically (as if having my garbage all over the street is not enough to make me sigh, but whatever.)

"It's Bert again!" I say in that fake-bright-and-cheerful voice that one reserves for the most dire circustances, thinking he might sympathize or even say "Oh, I know, that dog is a menace, and what is UP with my insane wife's slavering affection for that monster?"

But no. "Uh," he says, "you think?" As though I might be crazy! As though anyone else lets their dog out without a leash! As though a chipmunk might be able, in seven inches of snow, to knock over a thirty gallon trashcan and pry its lid off, eat only discarded chicken bones, and leave the rest for us suckas!

My wonderful husband comes out and says "I'll clean it up." So I say, OK. And he pulls on the gloves and after about five seconds of picking up rotten garbage, beseeches heaven, "FUUUUCK! I HATE YOUR FUCKING DOG! BERT, ROT IN HEEEELLLL! AND BY THE WAY IT IS ILLEGALLLL! TO LET YOUR DOG OFF THE LEASH TO ROOT AROUND IN OTHER PEOPLE'S GARBAGE!"

Of course I was inexplicably embarassed and told him to come inside. I hate this dog as much as he does, but somehow having my husband curse at the heavens during rush hour seemed totally inappropriate. And yet he said everything I wanted to say and couldn't, in my weak-ass martyrdom and indecision.

6 Comments:

At 6:20 AM, Blogger chang said...

My wonderful husband comes out and says "I'll clean it up." So I say, OK. And he pulls on the gloves and after about five seconds of picking up rotten garbage, beseeches heaven, "FUUUUCK! I HATE YOUR FUCKING DOG! BERT, ROT IN HEEEELLLL! AND BY THE WAY IT IS ILLEGALLLL! TO LET YOUR DOG OFF THE LEASH TO ROOT AROUND IN OTHER PEOPLE'S GARBAGE!"THAT'S MY BOY!!! Nice work, Nick! Claire, you gotta speak up. Becuase if you don't, I see 2 things happening:

1) You are going to one day take a handful of Vicodin or Adavan or Percosets and crumble them up and put them in a half pound of hamburger patty. The you'd place it near the garbage for f;ing Bert to eat. Then watch while Bert never gets outside again.

2) The girls are going to watch you one day walk out of the kitchen with a knife and disembowel Bert and put his guts on the lawn on punji spikes for all the neighborhood to see.

3) You are going to shit on the neighbors lawn.

Hmmm. All things I've considered doing to my neighbors pit bull.

I might also recommend wiring the garbage cans up wiith an alarm. Something you'd remember not to trip up, but would scare the living shit out of the dig. Perhaps a mild electric shock?

You could also root around in the neighbors garbage. You'd find far mroe interesting things there than Bert would.

Don't get mad. Get even AND GET REVENGE!

 
At 7:17 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Kill the dog. It happens all the time. Rat poison in a burger patty. Save the Percocets for yourself.

 
At 8:00 AM, Blogger debbie said...

your husband is my kinda guy! there's nothing like screaming obscenities -- even if no one is listening -- to make you feel better! heh. i, uh, have *some* experience in that department. heh.

 
At 1:29 PM, Blogger XLT said...

Every once in a while we feed the strays with an unsecure trash can. No diaper goodies yet; just some old coffe grounds or chicken bones.

As far as the cursing in our household? Boy-Howdy. Like two drunken sailors on shoreleave.

 
At 5:56 AM, Blogger The Cybrarian said...

There is simply no excuse for this. Rat poison is readily available everywhere, even the grocery! And there's nothing illegal about dredging your leftovers in it before you put them in the very top of the trash can. If it takes about 1/2 teaspoon to kill a one-pound rat, then you need about 3.5 ounces to kill a 100-pound dog. You could also mix it in cream cheese. It's more humane than him gettng run over by a certain SUV (though certainly less satisfying from your point of view). I guess the peril is you could harm some comparitively cute raccoons or rats by accident.

 
At 9:53 AM, Anonymous tbtine said...

I totally understand how you feel about the dog (I used to have six raccoons regularly break into my apartment and trash the place--while I was there!), but maybe it's something even more elusive and annoying. Like a fox?

But I'll have to keep my helpful suggestions to myself and support your hatred of the dog. Border collies are reknowned for garbage digging. And flowerbed digging. Oh, and carpet digging when left for 8 hours a day while you go to work.

 

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