It was the straw that broke the camel’s back.  Meggie was on the phone screaming, no SHRIEKING at me because our pet was out of control.  I was at work.

“David!  Your fucking animal got into the trash and made a fucking mess!  He ate my shoes, chewed a hole into the couch pillows and humped them.  And he also pissed all over the bed!”

“Um..Are you sure it was the little guy and not one of the cats?”  I knew it wasn’t one of the cats, but maybe if I laid the groundwork for some doubt, she would calm down and I could work this in my favor.

“No, David.  It wasn’t one of the fucking cats.”  Meggie was dropping f-bombs - a rare occurrence, so I knew she meant business, and I knew laying the foundation for apprehension was a moot point.  “I know it wasn’t one of the cats because I SAW that little minion pissing on the bed…ON MY PILLOW!  And when I went to swat him off the bed, he lunged at me and tried to molest my leg.”

I just sat there, listening to the angry breathing.  For some reason, I felt that if I kept silent, Meggie would somehow forget about the havoc caused by our little critter.

“Are you there?”

“Yeah.”

“Sooo?”

“Okay.  I guess we can bring him to the shelter.”

“Nobody’s going to want that little demon seed, David.”

“So, what should I do?”

“I don’t know.  All I know is that your pet is no longer part of this house.”  She stressed “YOUR.”  Like I’m the one who adopted the little hellion.  Women have no sense of accountability.

I get frustrated with Meggie when I’m told something needs to be done but am told than any viable - no RATIONAL option - is not acceptable.  This causes me to turn to my childhood alter ego, Sarcastic Man.

“Fine.  You know what?  I think the shotgun shells are in my closet.  Do me a favor, get them out…You know how to load a shotgun right?  Get the shells, load one into my gun and I’ll take that thing you hate so much out to a field and blast a round into the back of his thick little skull.  Okay?”

“No, David.  That’s horrible.”

“What would you have me do then?  Can’t keep my pet, can’t bring him to a shelter, and I apparently can’t execute him gangland style.”

“Just…I don’t know, David.  We just need to get rid of that beast.”

No.Accountability.Or.Sense.Of.Reason.  Freakin’ women.  I disconnected the call, blared  Judas Priest on my office computer and gave a passing coworker the finger as he walked by.

I love my little monster.  Granted, he has been a bit crazy at times, but you don’t just get rid of pets because they get out of control.  They are living beings.  Just like us.  And they depend on us.

But, I guess I have no other recourse.  I don’t want to have to pop the little fella with a lead game shot, so I am putting out a plea: Someone please adopt a loving pet with a bit of energy.

He is a mixed breed.  He’s got thick black fur with brown furry feet.  He is house trained and loves long walks.  He is an inside pet, but if you have a backyard, he would love to run around in it and chase after the squirrels.  He’s got a beautiful smile, and those sharp little teeth in his mouth are more adorable than threatening.

I’m getting a bit teary-eyed just writing this.

He does get along with strangers, but I recommend having treats on hand to make sure that he warms up to guests.

He eats dry food.  Trust me, you don’t want to get wet food into my little guy’s system.  He’ll stink up the place with some HORRENDOUS gas.

He is also neutered, so don’t worry about him breaking off the leash and running off to find a mate.

And speaking of leashes.  I will go ahead and throw in the choke-chain, leash and collar.  You don’t have to worry about going to buy all that stuff.  It’s free.  So are the chew toys and his little bed.  That little bed he would curl up in at night.  I remember stationing his little bed next to the window so he could look outside.

He’s got all of his shots.  I have the papers.

Anyways, if you can provide a good, loving home to my sweet little pet midget, Sasquatch (I love ironic names), give me a buzz.

- David C. Garcia