My Dog is a Karen – Unfair Dad
While reading last week’s post, Ginger nodded happily along as my writing carried her voice. When finished she gave me the look, “Is that it!” Apparently, she had more to say. Here is the latest from Queen Ginger and the karen of all she can see.
Dad is unfair, but he gives me the best head scratches. His nails kneed deeply into my skull messaging bliss causing my eyes to roll up into my head. However, he only does it once or twice a day. As the euphoric sensation commences, he stops, literally, like two seconds into it. Mom says, “You had your two minutes of loving, now it’s my turn.”
Last week, dad tattled, “Ginger tried to sit on the red chair.” Mom raced down to see the couch cushions still protecting the chair. Dad lied to her by stating, “Ginger was trying to knock the cushion off the chair.” Yet, the cushion remained on the chair. Without a hint of proof, this man lied on me to mom. The truth was, I tried to fix it because it was crooked and my Judas of a mother scolded me on dad’s word.
The worse of the worst came this week when dad took mom out of the house for the whole day leaving me sad, alone, and heartbroken. They pranced in the door smiling and carefree knowing I nearly starved to death in their absence. Meeting mom with my usual friendly greeting to see her home safe and sound from her long exodus, “Ginger relax, we were gone only an hour,” uncaringly rang from her mouth.
Then I notice they brought back gyros for the family. Sister reached into the bag for her gyro and tzatziki. Then mom pulled out one and opened it. Dad stepped between to obtain his gyro while mom and sister played with their food. Not wanting to be left out, gently squeezed between mom and dad to reach mine. I tenderly grazed dad’s arm to reach the open sandwich on the counter when he screams, “AAAAHHHH!” making me and mom jump.
The taste of the delicious gyro meat falls from my tongue in fear of this tyrant scream. I ran under the dining table to see the piece of meat I dropped on the floor with tomato bits and a little sauce. Mom knows the truth, “That’s my fault for not paying attention.” Dad growls at me, yes literally growls at me. Then says, “You know you are not allowed on the counters.” No one knew there was a second insy-weency piece of meat behind mom and that is what a half-starved dog received for lunch.
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