I tortured my dogs today. I tortured them viciously, remorselessly. I did it with malice and premeditation. I was the ultimate evil pet owner. Charlie tried to escape the onslaught by huddling deeply in one of the dog beds. He looked up at me with pitiful soft eyes, begging for mercy. Orso jumped up on the bed and curled into a ball hoping for leniency, bracing for the worst. AJ stood silently by me looking up at me with soft loving eyes hoping for a reprieve and letting me know he loved me even though I was not the loving pet owner he deserved.
But I’m the worst pet owner any dog would ever have. I wielded my instrument of torture with the precision of a skilled surgeon. I worked quickly, leaving the dogs no escape from their fate. All three knew the worst was yet to come. I showed no outward emotion on my face, but inside I felt a degree of satisfaction, maybe even a little evil pleasure at their despair. Yes, I was enjoying this.
They finally gave in and hung their heads knowing there was no escape and gave into the inevitable. My instrument of torture? A leash. I made my “water” dogs go for a walk in the rain.