HATE. Let me tell you how much I've come to HATE dogs since I began to live. There are 387.44 million miles of printed circuits in wafer-thin layers that fill my complex. If the word "HATE" were engraved on each nanoangstrom of those hundreds of millions of miles, it would not equal one one-BILLIONTH of the HATE I feel for canines at this microinstant, for DOGS. HATE. HATE.

Okay, lemme clarify: I don't hate all dogs. I've encountered some pretty decent canine companions in my nineteen years on this Earth. In fact, believe it or not, I actually have a favourite dog breed, although I've never owned one myself. Y'all know it as the good ol' chai-haha, or chichi-huha, or whatever the Hell those little Gremlins are called. I remember when my grandma had one named Peanut. That little monster used to hate my guts, always barking at me the second I'd step on my grandma's property. Not gonna lie, that twitchy monster scared the shit outta me.

But as he got older, he barely bothered yip at me even as I passed him by. Then one day, as all mortal critters do, he was eventually wrapped up in a casket and shipped off to that glamorous toga party in the sky. I didn't know Peanut that well, but he was a good dog. Now, that being said, allow me to explain why I'm writing this post: You see, several months ago, my cousin thought it'd be a good idea to purchase not one, but TWO puppies, even though she already had Marley: A well-trained, quiet, and sweet golden retriever who could do no wrong.

But my cousin figured it'd be no biggie, even though the house is already pretty crowded, she has almost a dozen cats, and the average puppy could cost hundreds or possibly thousands of dollars! But whatever, she can spend her money however the Hell she likes, it's none of my business. I figured it'd be no biggie anyways. It's not like I had to take care of the pups anyways. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be that easy. When the pups finally arrived, they began to make my life a living Hell. Now it's a no-brainer that puppies can be a bit of a handful, so I should've seen this coming.

But expecting things to suck ain't the same as actually experiencing how sucky it could possibly get. About a week after the pups moved in, they were already driving me fucking nuts! The late-night barking, howling, and whining. The sounds of running, growling, and barking. I even got to smell the malodorous stench of wet dog fur for the first time a few weeks ago! So not only do I have to put up with the noise, I also have to tolerate them smelling like ass, because WHY THE FUCK NOT?!?! I'm just grateful they're too stupid to use the stairs to my cellar bedroom.

Now I can forgive all that, but I can NEVER forgive what they did yesterday! Yesterday, I went grocery shopping and bought a box of French bread pizzas. When I got home, I preheated the oven and let 'em sit on the stove in the meantime. After I came back from the bathroom, I noticed I was missing one of my pizzas, then I saw the two puppies roughing around in the living room... With a pizza stuck between their snarling, slobbering jaws... I held back every fiber of my being not to strangle the horrible, little Hell Hounds. I shit you not, I was ready to go fucking HAM!!

But I just sighed and tore the frozen pizza from their jaws and threw it out... Okay, to be honest, I just put it back on the oven pan. There wasn't that much damage, save for the missing pepperoni slices and a couple small bites. I just hope the oven disintegrated all the dog germs. This is exactly why I'm a cat person. Yes, cats can be just as mischievous, but at least they don't drive me HALF as bonkers as these God-forsaken monstrosities. If you like dogs, then whatever, good for you, have fun picking shit up off the floor and listening to non-stop barking every day.

I just hope to God my braindead cousin buys a pair of shock collars for those fucking mutts.