JP Schmack (jpschmack) wrote in fakediaries,
JP Schmack

Peta will be calling Pete tomorrow.

March, 2002...
I was hanging out with Hannah and she's the bomb. We're kinda together now, and I'm totally falling for her. She's like perfect for me. Everything I've ever wanted in a woman. One problem is, she's a dog lover. I'm not. You know the little tiny girlie dogs people like Paris Hilton and Christina Aguilera would carry around in their handbags? She's got SIX of these little rodents roaming around her place. (Her place is awesome by the way. It's like a cabin but not in the "camping in the woods way." It's like a modern, wood, lodge resort type thing. Great balcony for lookin out over the lake, hot tub in the family room by the big bay window, you name it.) So anyway, I don't like the little muskrats. She told me all their names -- like I'm ever going to remember. I was too busy thinking "dear god, is that a ribbon in that things hair? What kind of a person accessorizes for a little dog that looks like a drown rat?" The only name I remembered is Steve. Steve's alright. He's the only real actual DOG. A big old lab. I don't mind him. He likes me. I can tell because he hangs around me, but respects my privacy. He doesn't lick my face, sniff my crotch, slobber on me, or annoy me. He just comes over to hang out. It's as if he's saying "You're alright." He'll put his head on the couch next to me and look up as if to say "Good, another big person. It's just me and the girls. You gotta save me from those little yappin rodents." It's like he's a 19 year old college man at home babysitting his 12-year old sister's slumber party. He's the man of the house. He's got the duty of being Hannah's protector. And for this, he gets to hang out in the bedroom when she's comin out of the shower. Not a bad reward for a good dog. Although I don't know if he's into humans. I hope he's still got his nuts. Why am I pondering about Steve's nuts when I'm in love with Hannah? I guess it's cause she's so perfect except for the damned dogs. I hope this works out.

August, 2003...
Well, Hannah and I are through. We've been having big fights lately over stupid stupid stuff. She'll smother me when I need some space and be argumentative or ignore me when I do want to hang out. The last straw was when she blew me off last night. She was supposed to meet me at Sliker's for dinner and she never showed. I waited for a while, called her cell, left her like seven messages. And when I went to her place at 10:30, she's there on the family room couch in her pjs playing with the muskrats. Her reason? Mitsy had a stomach flu. Mitsy. A freaking DOG had to go to the doggie emergency room because she had the flu. The same woman who has pestered me about committment and getting engaged stood me up for a 99 cent chew toy of a dog! "What did you want me to do?" she asked. How about put down some newspapers in the bathroom, close the door and let Mitsy barf it out of her? She didn't call because she was on the phone with the vet while driving Mitsy in and then her cell phone died. I swear Steve actually looked at me and rolled his eyes when she said it. And she had the hot tub on because the steam filling the room might be good for her. Un be freaking leavable.

Anyway, words escalated and she stormed off into the bed room to give mitsy her medicine. I was so mad I lobbed sasha into the hot tub. i think it was sasha anyway, they all look the same to something Steve would cough up. Little stupid doggie sweater and all. I hope the little sissy freak can swim just enough to tread water until the wool sweater shrinks small enough to choke it to death. What the hell was I thinking, dating a tiny dog lover?

The sad thing is that when I left, Steve followed me out. He stood on the porch and watched me walk to me car. Then he barked. It was if he was saying "sorry I won't get to see you anymore. I don't blame you for what you did, but I gotta stay here and protect Hannah. Take care, Pete."
I stopped in my tracks and walked back to the porch. I stood there scratchin his head and behind his ears for a few minutes before I said "Steve, I'm sorry things didn't work out. I'll miss you buddy. Steve's alright." He sighed and walked dutifully back into the house. I bet he fished little sasha out of the hot tub and went into Hannah's room to offer a whimper of consolation. Steve's a good dog. I'm glad he's still got his balls.
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