Things Ragnar Ate:
- The corner of a foam Yoga brick
- Well, that’s an unsubtle reminder.
- A stolen treat still in the wrapper
- Dog treats are gross. This one was rabbit sausage (presumably that would be a sausage-shaped treat comprised of rabbit bits, not rabbit penis, since it didn’t say “pizzle” on the packaging.
- The rubber coating from a 2 lb fitness weight
- He’s right. I’m not using it anyway.
- One ballet flat
- But WHY does he insist on keeping one of my feet bare? Just one? ASSHOLE.
- 7 toilet paper rolls
- at least he waits for them to be empty, unlike Angus who insists on unrolling all the toilet paper and murdering any new roll he finds
- A small chunk of wood from the bottom of a nightstand
And this is where chemical weapons entered my bedroom.
If you’ve had a puppy, you are already aware that they chew on FUCK ALL EVERYTHING. Those tiny shark teeth are always hungry, and much like a shark, puppy teeth are nearly always in motion until they hit a few months old and start losing those shark teeth. At that point, the sharks are ALWAYS chewing…even in their sleep.
|My teeth hurt. CHEW THE THINGS.
Photo courtesy of National Geographic
As such, most pet supply stores offer various takes on icky things to spray/rub on items they don’t want shredded.
So, when I moved back to MN I bought myself real bedroom furniture so I can pretend I’m an adult. This statement is not a non-sequitur.
At about 2:30am the other night, I woke to a giant furry termite making gross gnawing sounds that were unmistakably on wood. I’m not a fan of middle of the night sleep interruptions. By “not a fan” I do, indeed, mean I’m homicidally cranky.
So, pissed off and growling, I got up. I took that fucking bottle of bitter-chemical-chew-stop and sprayed it on ALL the dresser/nightstands/bookshelves in my room. And the lone sad remaining already once-repaired iPhone cord.
In my defense, at 2:30am when I’m naked and cold and ready to commit various bloody forms of murder on anything alive in my house who bothered waking me up…I MAY have overlooked the fact that spraying that shit all over means there is aerosoled chemical weapon floating around in the very air I breathe.
And that’s how I ended up with bitter-no-chew-spray in my sinuses, eyes, and lungs for the next six hours.
FYI: Starbucks is NOT TASTY when mixed with bitter-no-chew-spray.
One thought on “And Then I Dropped a Chemical Weapon On Myself”
Oh my gosh Jess. Having pets must be the best, even when it's not. Love your stories.