Don't make me get my gun...

Warning… This little tale is written in the language I speak, frequent use of course language may offend some viewers

As a dear friend once described me, I am a dog gal. She also described me as biker-chick-meets-barbie… but we wont go there just now.

I feel my life is incomplete without a furry four legged friend to love me unconditionally… to listen to all my secret hopes and desires… to be there for me when life threatens to overwhelm with a rough rasping tongue to lick away all my fears.

Anyways… I currently share my life with Rosie, a gorgeous little Maltese x Shizu. I love her to pieces but…

SHE DRIVES ME FUCKING CRAZY WITH HER BARKING!!!

She barks at anything that moves… even her own shadow… And she is REAL well trained…

You tell her “Enough Rosie!!!” And she looks at you as if to say… “Who the fuck are YOU to tell me enough ha? Ya feeling lucky? Punk?” and continues barking. So I will go over to wherever she is with the intention of picking her up and taking her away from the situation. Oh HO!!! This turns into a merry game of you-cant-catch-me-I’m-the-gingerbread-dog. BITCH! And this usually ends up with me red in the face muttering every foul curse that comes to mind.

What to do???

The other week I had an epiphany (light bulb moment in laymans terms) One of the boys had left his water gun at the back door…

Fully…..

Loaded….

Muahahaaaaa!!!!

And this sucker has pump action and a target range of at LEAST 20 feet!!

Like Linda Hamilton out of the Terminator (when she’s the tuff bitch that has been doing chin ups on her bed in the loony asylum, not the wussy girlie girl in the first movie) I double pump my weapon and enter stealth mode as I go in search of my furiously barking (at nothing) quarry.

I round the corner….

Make sure I am upwind of my prey….

Target sighted….

I take careful aim and…

FIRE!!!

WOOHOOOOOO!!! DIRECT HIT!!!

Rosie turns around in circles and you can see it on her face “What the FUCK was that shit??”

Seeing nothing that could possibly be the cause of her now soaking wet ear (I am still in stealth mode around the corner), she exercises her goldfish memory, promptly forgets about it and resumes barking…

CH-GUNK…CH-GUNK… (thats me being Linda Hamilton again, priming my weapon)

FIRE!!!

ANOTHER DIRECT HIT!!!

Rosie leaps up into the air like she has been stung by a hornet on her rump and starts running…

….straight towards her hunter…MUAHAHAHAAAAA

She runs past me… and I rapid fire short little bursts of water behind her to keep her moving… Recognition dawns in her eyes… It is I, her beloved pet, that has instigated this watery outrage against her!!!

With a look of bewliderment and confusion she drags her sorry… and rather wet… arse inside. I dont care about the paw prints…

SHE HAS STOPPED BARKING!!! I FINALLY REIGN SUPREME!!! I HAVE TAKEN BACK MY TERRITORY AND BROUGHT PEACE TO MY BACKYARD!!!

Yeah… ok… maybe I got a LITTLE bit overexcited… I’m just glad the neighbours didnt call the police when they saw me running around my yard yelling like a banshee with warrior mud streaks on my face brandishing my weapon of terror.

But maybe that call isnt all that far away…

After all… wouldnt YOU be worried if you heard your neighbour yelling to their dog “DONT MAKE ME GET MY GUN!” every time she barked?

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