I just need a little bit of attention!

That's what my dog was saying as he crapped all over my green silk hand beaded top that lay on my bed. He was singing 'Look at me' as he lifted the duvet with his nose and crapped in between the waves of unmade comfort. The chorus took him into my daughter's room and left a pile of something as large as him on her books that lay underneath her window, crescendoing with a splash of poo on the curtains. There was a break in front of the bathroom and a moment of vomit in the living room.

My dog is loosing his shit all over the things I love in my house cause I have not been taking the time to rub his stinking belly and allow him the pleasure of licking my toes at night. He's mad that I have moved on from being so clingy and cuddly with him. He's understanding when I tell him that my daughter and husband come first when I am doling out the love, then the cats, *then* him. He's sick of being fourth and screamed it as loud as a revenge seeking hound could scream. With the fury of his feces.

I spent an hour tonight cleaning shit off my hardwoods, duvet, silk blouse, and curtains. My daughter is upset that some of her favorite books had to be thrown away and has requested that he do time in the garage, and my husband has more fuel in his fire of hatred for the dog. I was reminded, yet again, of how much they did not want this dog and how they wished for a good old labrador. What a bad choice I forced on them.

I allowed the dog to leave the house tonight in hopes that he would stupidly run into the street and get hit by a car. I'd leave him there, just as he left his runny crap in my bed. But as I was thinking this, my conscious got the best of me. For goodness sake, he is just a six pound, defenseless, little ball of cuteness! How dare I even think such horrid thoughts. I never batted an eye when Darian's diaper leaked, or all the times she ran diaperless and pooped in a corner. I actually laughed when I found her in her room, at 8 months of age, smearing poo all over the dresser. And when she is sick and has to have mommy wipe her hiney, do I want to put her in the garage so I don't have to look at her needy face? The thought would never cross my mind! Why do these mean thoughts come to me with regard to my dog? It's because the actions of my daughter are not spiteful; those of my dog are.

I am hoping that tonight is the last of the fecal frenzies here at Monkey Hill. My delicate hands can't handle all the cleaning and my dog loving spirit is deflating. But then again, we are adopting a new kitten sometime this month. I'll be sure to keep the books off the floor, fancy blouses off the bed, and have learned that a dog can never have too many belly rubs.