This Dog Does Not Like Me

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http://PLANET-OF-DEATH.com


It took about thirty seconds for this dog not to like me and for me not to like him. There seem to be a lot of Golden Retrievers in this country and he is one from the dark side. I don’t like the golden Golden Retrievers, I like the light ones. And there is something wrong with his face. He’s got some Chow in him, I’m sure. Or at least his mother did. Or his grandmother.

Golden Retrievers are generally a Man’s Dog. Men and children. And he is no different, but he is a rebel without a man. He sussed me out straight away, just as I sussed him. He knows that I will expect him to behave like a dog and I knew that he is a pathetic whore.

He cruises around this hostel and the gaggle of identical micro-girls who man the reception treat him like a God. He is a lazy, arrogant prick.

There is a constant stream of Chinese dickheads into the hostel who are doing nothing other than searching for something to be photographed beside / in front of / under while they do the Edward Scissorhands thing. That is all they want: photo-opportunities and the resultant bad-photos. “Oh loooooooook a tree / pagoda / lake / cat / wheelie bin / Golden Retriever / foreigner / leaf/ building site! Take my picture! (makes V sign (sometimes two))”

Why would he want to behave like a dog when he can behave like a prick? Why would I?

So he is lying under my table and it is late at night. He is ignoring me and I am ignoring him, but the vibe is not a good one and he knows that sooner or later we will be deciding who is boss and he knows that I am the boss and that he is going to have to call on the identical micro-girls to assert his manhood. Call yourself a dog? You ain’t no dog, you is a pussy. It is only late-ish.

One of these photo-junkies (male) arrives at the table and places his laptop on the floor right in front of the dog. Or as near to in front as the table and contortion of the dog’s repose will allow. He speaks to the dog and attempts to direct its attention towards the computer. He really, really wants the dog to look at the screen. The dog is not the least bit interested in looking at his fucking lap-top and I gleeful suspect that a human versus dog incident is about to occur, and I can thereby intervene and demonstrate my dominance over this dog, and probably the human too. This is the chance I have been looking for. The nice photo-junkie man becomes more insistent that the dog looks at the screen, to the extent of tugging the dog’s ears and trying to point his nose into the display, much as you would smear food on his lips to convince him to eat. The dog does not co-operate. I don’t blame the dog. There is nothing on this screen he might want to see. A very boring video of a Chinese woman’s talking head, talking, soundlessly. I can’t imagine why any dog or human would want to look at this dull other human. Neither can the dog. (Just for the record, I watched the very boring video for much longer than the dog did. He didn’t even look at it at all). The whole scene makes no sense to me whatsoever. Dogs don’t watch boring videos on computers and generally humans don’t crawl on the floor with open laptops trying to invent Dog-TV. The human gives up and returns, not entirely joylessly to his table, adjusts the angle of his screen so the cam is pointing at his ugly mug instead of the dog’s arse and continues to chat to with his boring and bored wife.

The smug dog knows I am going to get him. I know he knows. And I know I will. I am the master.

http://PLANET-OF-DEATH.com

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Comments

[chalne]

The..
The only unbearably pathetic thing is that everything is pathetic.