Thanks For Nothing, You Big Lump Of Garbage.

We have a dog. The dog's name is Stu. Mikan rescued Stu from the hands of a cruel and inhumane person almost 5 years ago. Stu was in bad shape, spent a month at the vet, and got all better. Now Stu lays around the house, dropping massive amounts of hair on my floors and slobbering everywhere. The end. Seriously, this is ALL that Stu does. His sole purpose in life (according to him) is to sit near the table looking unassuming while we eat dinner, hoping beyond hope for one crumb to fall on the floor near him. His sole purpose in MY life is to look big and mean and really scary so that people won't break into our house and kill us or steal our things. That's it. If these people who were hypothetically going to murder and rob us KNEW about Stu, they would chuckle for a minute before busting in the door, content in the knowledge that Stu would lick them to death before even growling at someone who came into our house uninvited.

So when solicitors or murderers knock on my door in the middle of the day while I am home alone with two small children, I always make sure that Stu is close at hand, just in case. Just in case said murderer realizes that I am at home alone with two helpless children and decides to try and bust into my house. Because Stu is big and scary. Right? The other day a guy knocked on the door, and I opened it to find a mid-40-ish guy standing there, offering to sell me some steak out of the back of his truck. First of all, it creeps me out that he was just driving around with a truck full of meat. Not sure why, but it did. Second of all, NO. I do not want a STEAK OUT OF THE BACK OF YOUR MEAT MOBILE that costs a trajillion dollars. The conversation went like this: "Ma'am, could I interest you in a fresh cut steak? We're practically GIVING them away today!" "No thanks, I have to go help my husband clean his shotgun in the basement. His BIG, loaded shotgun. And his knives." Okay, I didn't really say that. But I was thinking it. Instead, I slyly motioned for Stu to come over to the door and peek his head out, just enough for the Murderer Meat Man to see that I have a ferocious, killing-machine of a dog who will not hesitate to leap through the air and bite him in the throat if he so much as thought about coming in to the house. So Stu pokes his head around the side of the door, trying his best to look menacing. And the Murderer sees him. And instead of the panic-stricken look of sheer terror that I was going for, Murderer Meat Man looks thrilled and starts cooing at Stu and patting his knee to call Stu over to him for some snuggles. What?!!! How could this be? Murder Man proceeds to tell me that he had a Rott growing up and aren't they so sweet and misunderstood and just lovely animals? And I wanted to say, NO, they are not misunderstood, and THIS Rott will chew your hands off if you come one step closer to me. But Stu cannot even fricking stay in character long enough to strike fear into the heart of strangers, because CUDDLES! PETTING! HE'S RUBBING MY EARS MMM#M^GMGHN@VVD. What I am doing now in my head is thinking of a backup plan. What must I do to let the Murderer know that I am armed and dangerous, since Stu has apparently abandoned the whole Scare Off Solicitors plan of action? Do I need to start answering the door with a butcher knife tucked coyly into the waist of my sweatpants? Sheesh.

So, thank you Stu. For you only had ONE purpose in life, and that was to at least make intruders THINK that we had a big scary man-eating guard dog. And you can't even manage that, you stupid animal. I may as well get one of those tiny, hairless dogs. It would probably be a lot scarier than you, Stu, and it would sure as hell shed less.

I am a ferocious hellhound who will maim and kill you and then....oh wait, a teddy bear!