Doggy style

Through a series of very uninteresting events, I wound up with one of my dad's dogs. Rusti is a mutt of some sort that my brother and stepsister found almost 13 years ago on Halloween. She's as sweet as sweet can be, too, she just likes to be petted occasionally and lay near my feet when I'm at the computer. We have a pretty chill relationship, I do my thing around the house and shower her with Beggin' Strips and slices of processed American cheese while she chews on her butt or sleeps in a sprawling Rusti puddle in front of my closet.

You don't love me, you just love my doggy smile! Now go get me a Milkbone!

But there are some problems. For one, I am out of the house (on my Pirate Stripper calls) for a minimum of 10 hours a day, so when I come home there's always some Rusti pee waiting for me. It's not her fault, she just can't hold it for that long. Plus, anyone who has ever been to my apartment can attest to the fact that it's pretty small, which is fine when it's just me, but the addition of having a large animal in the mix is upsetting the natural balance of things. I'm constantly tripping over her. And then, there's the fact that she's pretty old, and she has arthritis in her hips, so getting up and down the stairs is going to get difficult for her.

So, even though I've only had her for about a week, I think I'm going to have to give her up. I think my stepsister will take her. If not then...I don't know what I'll do. I'll think of something, though, because I'm all awesome like that. But man, do I feel bad. I know it'll be better for her to be in an environment where she can run around and not have to tinkle in my closet when I'm not around to let her out (by the way, it smells so rank in there now) but I sure am going to miss her. It's nice to have a Rusti to come home to.