My dog is an a-hole.

sparky

My dog has gone Hollywood.

And contrary to what he might think as he stares at himself in the mirror for 45 minutes each morning, it’s not pretty.

I’ve had him since he was 8 weeks old, but in the last few months, I feel like I don’t even know him at all.

It all started a little bit after Christmas. My brother had gotten him a little doggie-sized Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses (that’s him in the picture above.)

Anyway, it actually sat in the box until late January when a friend of mine saw it and said, “Hey, is this for Sparky?”

I hadn’t even thought about it since Christmas, so I pulled it out and put it on him, to see how it looked.

It was pretty cute and I took a few pictures, but thinking that was that, I went to take it off and that son of a bitch bit me!

“Fine! Leave it on! See if I care!”

Well, he did. In fact, the only time he took off that stupid shirt and those asinine sunglasses was when he took a shower. He said he felt naked without it! I tried to remind him that he was just a dog and all dogs are usually naked, but he said those are the gay ones.

“So you were gay until last Christmas?” I asked him. He said he didn’t make the rules, he just stamped them on the ass of every bitch he tapped.

You might think this was all doggie-bluster, but he had the skills to back it up. One night, I caught him in a six-way with a bunch of dogs from the neighborhood. They must have liked his style, because they’re out there right now, as I type this, barking their doggie-whore asses off.

Things got really bad when he ordered that doggie-sized Segway. He’d roll around the neighborhood, smoking a cigar, casting aspersions on all the other naked, male dogs who didn’t have their own scooter to ride around on and had to walk like every other fucking dog in the world besides my goddam dog.

Sorry, I just get a little worked up, thinking about that stupid Segway.

The other day, I was working on my screenplay, “Decadent Cadence”, when I noticed my hard drive wasn’t getting backed up! I looked and saw that shithead had unplugged my goddamn external so he could juice up his ridiculous and unnecessary Segway! He’s a dog! He doesn’t need a Segway!

If something had happened and my computer crashed, I would have lost like six pages of re-writes! Oh boy, I would have given it to him good! I don’t care how many times he bit me, I’d take that goddamn Segway, the ugly Hawaiian shirt, the 1980’s-style Aviators, the fake doggie-cigar! The whole kit and caboodle!

Luckily, it didn’t have to come to that. That seems to be his way: he rides me just about to the limit, but never quite over. Oh man, he sure knows how to push my buttons!

I just want my old, regular dog back. The one who doesn’t wear clothes or rides a Segway or pretends to smoke a cigar. He got along fine without those things before, why would now be any different?

I’ll tell you why: he’s spoiled!

I feel like Charlie Brown in that Peanuts when Snoopy runs away or something. Only my dog hasn’t run away, he’s still here. He just acts like a dick and treats me like shit because he thinks he’s better than everyone now.

You know what, that picture might be confusing. I know it sounds like I said that’s my brother in the picture, but it’s not. That’s actually Sparky, my dog, wearing the outfit that my brother had given him for Christmas. Sorry, Al, for implying that you were my stupid dog!

Come to think of it, my brother wears Hawaiian shirts and sunglasses all the time and he does have a Segway too, so I take back that apology. That’s still not him, but if you look exactly like somebody and have all the same characteristics as them and wear the same stupid shirts, then you probably deserve to be confused with them in somebody’s blog at some point in your life.

I guess your vacation from the real world is over, Alex. Time to grow up and take your lumps.

Anyway, my dog sucks and my brother is pretty bad too. I should give my stupid dog to my brother, they’d probably get along great! They could ride Segways together and smoke cigars and lift up their Aviator sunglasses (that look like the kind people would win on Double Dare) in a seductive manner to check out “the babes” as they go by on their roller blades in their spandex bike shorts.

Come to think of it, who the hell gets somebody’s dog a Christmas present that basically turns their dog into their own little tiny dog-doppelganger? I mean, it’s possible that was his plan all along, right?

He’s always admired Sparky and on several occasions has expressed his desire to have a dog “just like that one day”.

Well, I guess I’ve been played for a fool. I see now, all too late, that I walked right into this little trap.

I have to ask you, though, Spark, were you just an unknowing pawn in all of this, like me, or were you playing along the whole time?

UPDATE: Well, since I wrote this, a lot has happened. I was able to piece the real story together from fragments of email conversations I hacked into between my brother and my former dog. Even when I thought I “knew” what was up, I was still in the dark. It had been Sparky, not my brother, who had masterminded the whole thing.

Well, I hope you two jerks are happy together. I’m gonna leave this up as a warning (albeit a humiliating and soul-crushing one) to all the people out there who might get a seemingly innocent gift from a trusted family member for your dog. Smile and say thank you so much for the lovely sweater or whatever it is, but the second you’re out of their sight, throw that thing out. Because while it might seem adorable at the time, I’d rather have an ugly, naked dog that all the other dogs take for a gay, rather than a fake, two-timing dickweed who thinks he’s better than me.

SECOND UPDATE: I just realized that’s not my dog or my brother in that picture. It’s that guy from the show “Dog the Bounty Hunter” who bears a passing resemblance to them both. If you saw my brother or Sparky, you’d understand my confusion. I’d replace it but now I don’t have any pictures of my brother or my dog–excuse me, my EX-dog around anymore because I threw them all out in anger.

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