Them's Fightin' Words

As you know by now, I’m a graduate student at USC.  I’m currently living in an apartment with three other roommates, my dog, and my roommate’s dog.

And now we come to the problem—my roommate’s dog.  The beast has currently dragged me into a psychological warzone.

It all started a couple weeks ago when my roommate decided that because my pet is so well behaved her dog, Jet, could come live with us as well.  With no complains (as I’ve grown up with all sorts of dogs) Jet came to live with us.

It is only now that I’ve determined that Jet is smarter than he looks.  Sure he drools incessantly and barks at dust bunnies, but behind those vacant eyes lies the mind of a master strategist.

Recently, I’ve discovered that Jet responds to the statement, “Do you wanna go for a ride?”  Every time I said this, he would run over to me and begin jumping up and down, while howling in pleasure. 

I thought it was cute, but now I think Jet really expected to go on a ride.  So when I didn’t actually take him anywhere, he began his personal vendetta against me and my clothes.

All of my life, I’ve been told that I shouldn’t leave my clothes on the floor, and now I know why—Jet.  He has begun to sneak into my room when no one is looking, just so that he can pee on my clothes.

He isn’t doing this in anyone else’s room—just mine.  Which is how I know he is trying to make me suffer.

The first casualty in the war was my jeans.  At the time, I didn’t realize that I was being targeted so I continued in blissful ignorance while the evil genius plotted my demise.

The second and third casualties were my backpack and a t-shirt.  They died a joint death, but served the purpose of alerting me to my foe. 

The fourth victim of this war died today and confirmed my fears that Jet is out to get me.

Oh, I am so on to you mister.

After asking Jet “do you wanna go for a ride?” he immediately went into my room and made his move. 

But unbeknownst to Jet, we were actually going to go somewhere.  So when the time came to leave, I went into my room to change clothes.  Seeing an only-worn-once bra on the floor, I decided to put that on. 

Big mistake. 

As soon as I had it half on, the damp urinated truth hit me.  Jet had peed on my bra.

Sure, when I confronted him he looked at me with his stupid drooling face, but I know the truth. 

I know what you are even if your master believes that you’re a big sweetie pie.  You’re evil.  And now that I know the truth—I’m going to get you.

You may have won some battles, but I’m going to win this war.  Even if it means having to pee on your favorite stuffed animal. 

I.  Will.  Win.