Little Shit
by Xander Riley


My Story

It has always amazed me that such a large pile of poop came out of that Li'l Shit!  I hosed down the pile of manure while my mini schnauzer ran circles
around the backyard.  MY schnauzer.  Although he was originally my girlfriend's dog, he sure became mine from the first moment we met.

Shannon's decision to move in with me caught me off guard, but I recovered quickly.  She never had a clue that I secretly preferred living alone.  As far
as she was concerned, I needed a woman's touch in my home and in my life.  How could I tell her that things were just fine the way they were?  Floral
prints and perfumed air fresheners had no place in a man's home - and there was not enough room in my only bathroom for all of her belongings.  Yet I
still agreed that we should take our relationship "to the next stage" and live together.  I suppose that it was time for me to settle down.

A few months before Shannon moved into my house, her roommate's dog had puppies.  She took the runt of the litter since she would be moving into a
house with a yard.  As soon as Shannon and the puppy walked in the front door, that little shit ran straight to me.  From that moment on, he was my dog.  
Shannon was no more than an irritant to him - and to me.

I think my first words to the mutt were something along the lines of "Well, aren't you a cute little shit!"  Then I couldn't say anything else until I stood and
escaped that rough tongue.  He followed me every step I took and would only sit down when I did.  He was a mini-me.

Later, when Shannon and I were deciding on a name for him, he totally ignored us.  We tried calling out different names, but we were only talking to his
tail.  In hindsight, I guess he wanted to choose his own name.

"Hey, Max!"

No response.  He kept his back to me and didn't even react to my voice.

"Hello, Lucky."

This time it was Shannon's voice.  He reacted this time by walking out of the room.

"Come here, Sam!"

He wandered back into the room at the sound of my voice, walked right past without looking at either of us, and continued on into the kitchen.

"How about Fido?  Rover?  Spot?  Bruno?  Stubby?"

He lay on the tile floor of the kitchen with his back to us the entire time.  I've never seen a dog with more attitude.

"Einstein?  Bilbo?  Shrek?  Houdini?  Spock?  Hamlet?  Rocky?"

He still wouldn't move.  I was running out of names.  Finally, I was fed up.

I turned to Shannon.  "All right, I'm really tired of dealing with this little shit!"

The dog's head suddenly jerked around to face us, his ears pricked up, and his tail started wagging.  He barked three times and spun around in a little
circle. Then he was on the sofa between us.

"Is that your new name?  That's the name you want?  Little Shit?"

Suddenly, there was dog tongue all over my face.  Apparently, he liked the first thing I ever called him.  How was I to know that it would stick?

That was two years ago.  Since then, Shannon has moved out.  But Li'l Shit is still here with me.  Shannon tried to take him with her (mostly to hurt me),
but Li'l Shit growled at her and even snapped at her fingers when she tried to pick him up.  I'm glad he chose to stay with me, because I can't imagine
what my life would be like without him.  

Do I miss Shannon?  I guess I do.  The same way you miss the flu once you've recovered.  I'm much better off without her - we both are.  Li'l Shit didn't
seem to miss her at all.  In fact, it was Li'l Shit that orchestrated our break-up.

I had been working a double shift and ran home before the second shift to get a quick meal.  Shannon didn't expect to see me, but she graciously cooked
a microwave dinner and sat with me the entire time I ate.  Li'l Shit watched me silently from across the room.  When I finally stood up to leave, Li'l Shit ran
across the room, grabbed my keys from the coffee table, and sprinted into the bedroom.  I ran after him and was surprised to find a strange man in my
bed.  Li'l Shit was sitting between us with my keys dangling from his mouth.  If it wasn't for that little dog, I'd still be living with a woman that cheated on me
with every man that smiled at her.

That was only one of the many times that dog saved me from a disastrous situation.

One bright summer day while I was walking him through the downtown area, he yanked back on his leash and yelped.  I stopped in my tracks at the side
of the road and turned to see what was wrong with him.  A pickup truck swerved and sideswiped the car I was standing next to.  I could have been
crushed between them if it weren't for Li'l Shit.

Sometimes I swear that Li'l Shit must be human - or at least he was human in a prior life.  You can tell just by looking in his eyes - there is intelligence
there.  He never chewed my slippers or the newspaper, never pooped or peed in the house, and he hardly ever barked unless something was wrong.

He woke me up when I left the oven turned on one evening.  I woke up to a smoke-filled house in time to avert a fire.  Another time, he jumped on my
chest and woke me up in time to scare off a burglar.  He even had the nerve to get excited when the cop referred to him as a "good watchdog" - his tail
didn't stop wagging for nearly a week after that one!

Li'l Shit would bark to get my attention when I forgot my briefcase on the way to work or when I forgot to lock the front door at night.  He used to bark at
me every time I used the bathroom.  He would simply stand in the doorway, barking his head off.  Then he'd sulk for a while, even refusing to eat.  After
about a week, I realized that he didn't bark every single time.  I finally figured out that he only barked if I didn't wash my hands!  Once that habit took hold
with me, he never barked at me in the bathroom again.  It was like living with a mini-Shannon.

After two years of living with Li'l Shit, there wasn't much that surprised me anymore.  I was living with a munchkin that couldn't speak my language.  I
learned to trust his instincts more than I trusted my own - his were always right on the money, while my own instincts always led me astray.

That is why I trusted his reaction to my new neighbors.  If Li'l Shit did not like them, there must be something wrong with them.  And I was determined to
discover their secrets.  Curiosity was one of my flaws - I must have been a cat in my prior life.

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Little Shit's Story

Life is hard when you're the youngest and smallest in a family of six.  I couldn't wait to get away from them.  I wasn't big enough to push the others out of
the way so I could eat and I was REALLY tired of stepping in their poop and pee all of the time.  Yeah, we were only babies, but come on!  It's not that
hard to learn that what goes in your mouth and what comes out the other end do not belong in the same room!  I mean, are we Dogs or are we animals?

The two humans we lived with were okay - they fed us once Mom started pushing us away from her.  And I never got yelled at for messing in the house
like my brothers and sisters did.  I swear, sometimes I think that I must have been adopted.  We couldn't possibly have the same blood in us.

I was so happy when some strange humans took one of my brothers away with them.  He was such a bully, anyway - always biting my tail and pushing me
away from the water dish.  Plus, that left the rest of us more room to move around.  But then, another group of humans took away my other brother and
one of my sisters.  I was starting to get worried.  Would I be taken away next?  What were these humans doing with us Dogs?

My question was answered when the first humans came back to get one of my remaining sisters.  They brought my bully brother with them.  That was
when I found out that these humans were adding us into their families.  That didn't sound so bad to me.  The two human females we lived with were nice
to us, but they could be really irritating.  The collar wasn't so bad, but putting a bow on my head and dressing me up like the humans was humiliating.  I
began to hope that some new family would take me home with them.

No such luck.  Big Squeaky was leaving home and decided to take me with her.  I knew that she had been mating with another human - I could smell him
on her.  He didn't smell bad at all.  Maybe I was going to be part of their new family!  Maybe he could convince her to stop dressing me up.  After all, guys
are guys - we have to stick together, right?

Big Squeaky packed all her stuff in a big box on wheels attached to the back of her car.  My new bed and food dish went in the car, too.  I was finally
leaving!  Hooray!  I would have bitten her if I had known that she was stopping to torture me along  Poking, prodding, and something called a SHOT
(another sadistic torture technique).  No wonder all the other dogs in the "waiting area" were terrified.  I wasn't just smelling their fear, I was swimming in it.

Once the torture chamber was behind us, I curled up in the back seat of the car.  Big Squeaky tried to be nice to me, but I would have none of that.  You
tricked me, you hurt me, and now you want to be my friend again?  Get real!

When we finally stopped and got out of the car, I couldn't help but be excited.  This was nothing like the rooms we lived in with Big Smelly.  There was
grass - and trees.  Whole big areas of interesting smells to investigate.  I was in Dog Heaven!  Then the bitch attached the leash.  What am I?  Now I'm
your slave?  I think not!

Too bad I wasn't strong enough to pull her off her feet.  The only thing I accomplished was slowing her down.  While she was fumbling with the door, I
slipped out the collar.  No more leash for me.  She never noticed that she was holding a empty leash.  When the door opened, I saw her mate for the first
time.  He looked exactly the way I knew he would from his smell.  I was home.

By that time, I had learned quite a few human words - no, poop, pee, eat, food, water.  When I heard him call me "cute", I knew that he likethe way.

The humans call it a VET, but I called it a Torture Chamber.  At least it was a female with a gentle touch.d me, too.  His tone was so open and honest.  I
didn't know what "Shit" was, but I thought that it had to be nice since he liked me - and compared to them, I knew I was Little.  I had already named him Big
Rumble because of his deep voice.  Later, when I found out what "Shit" meant, I changed his name.  Two could play at that game.

But, I still thought that Little Shit was a compliment back then.  I followed him around wherever he went, trying to get to know him through his scent.  I
explored the house while he and Big Squeaky talked.  When I knew all about the house, I settled down on the cool floor of the feeding room.  They were
still talking in the next room.  I'm not sure what they were saying - it was a lot of words that I had never heard before.

Then I heard him call my name, Little Shit.  I ran over to sit between them and be part of their family.  I probably could have stayed with them while they
talked, but that seemed rude.  I tried to show Big Rumble how happy I was by licking his face.  He seemed to like that.

I soon learned that Big Rumble wasn't perfect.  He needed training.  I couldn't believe it when I first saw him peeing in my drinking bowl - how dare he!  
Afterwards, he pushed the handle to replace the water in the bowl, but it's still gross.  I couldn't stay and watch any longer.  I decided right then and there
that I would never drink out of the big bowl again - only the little dish in the feeding room (which I later learned is called a Kitchen).

I watched the two humans as often as I could to learn more about them.  It turns out that my big drinking bowl was a human litter box and it is in the
"Bathroom".  Big Squeaky always closed the door when she went inside, but Big Rumble would sometimes leave it open.  I watched him one of those
times - it was strange!  Humans hold their pee-pee in their paws (no, the human word is "hands") when they pee.  Then they shake it off and put it back
inside their clothing.  But the really shocking part was what he did next!

Big Rumble walked right out of the bathroom and into the kitchen where he proceeded to fix my food bowl.  He tore off bits of meat and mixed it together
with that dry, crunchy crap they call dog food.  Touching my food with those hands that had just been on his wiener!  I refused to eat it.  It was time to
train him.

I followed him every time he moved anywhere in the house.  When he finally peed, I blocked the door and told him to wash his hands.  He obviously
doesn't understand Dogspeak, so I kept repeating it over and over, hoping that he would eventually get the message.  Humans are all slightly retarded,
so it took him many days before he finally caught on.  After that, I could rest easy.  And I could start eating again.

The bathroom must be only for humans.  They went nuts when I started "doing my business" in there.  I still don't understand why they were so upset.  I
mean, shouldn't we all potty in the same place?  The big bowl was too high (and too slippery) for me to use, but I could easily hop into the big long white
bowl with the pretty curtains.  There's no flushing handle down low enough for me to reach, but I figured that one of them could do it for me.  Apparently
not.  Big Squeaky can scream pretty loud.  

She finally stopped trying to dress me up.  I didn't seem to matter as much to her since she spent all of her time complaining to Big Rumble - about
everything.  I knew that because I had learned a lot more human words - and not all of them were nice ones.  Actually, that was when I found out about
the word "shit".  And that's when Big Rumble became Big Enema.  I figured that if he could call me something that comes out of a butt, I could call him
something that went into one!

It's hard to believe that humans can survive on their own with their limited senses.  They can't see at night and even during the days, they don't notice
their surroundings.  Their sense of smell is nearly non-existent, their hearing is limited, and they can't even tell when a storm is coming.  Some of them
can, but most of them are surprised when it starts to rain.  If they were a dog, they would know it was coming.

Big Enema doesn't notice anything unless it's right in front of him.  He almost walked across the street one day when a big flat car was headed right for
him - and he never saw it coming!  I had to use all my strength to try to pull him back out of the way.  It was a close call, but I saved him.

I really wish that he had a sense of smell as good as mine, then he wouldn't have been so surprised that his female was mating with other males.  He
would have smelled them - on her and in the house and bed.  But, he was oblivious.  I had to trick him into catching one of them with her.  After that, we
had the house to ourselves.  No more Big Squeaky.

When she left, she tried to take me with her.  I had to let her know (in a language she could understand) that I did not want to leave.  Growling would
usually work, but I had to show her my big teeth.  She still tried to pick me up, so I used my big teeth.  She finally took the hint.

I'm older now and I've learned a lot more about humans.  It turns out that the VET is a doctor who is just making sure that I'm healthy.  I still don't like
going.  Most humans don't like going to a doctor either.  One major point that I love about Big Enema is that he refused to have me "fixed".  The collie that
lives down the street from us told me about it.  Ewwwwww!  If he ever tried that with me, I would wait until he was asleep and "fix" him with my teeth!  Thank
goodness that he doesn't have the heart to do that to me.

Once again, my superior senses and intellect will protect Big Rumble.  The new humans in the big house next dooan’t smell the death that coats all of
their belongings.  I guess it will be up to me to warn him.

What would he ever do without me?




© Copyright 2009 Xander Riley
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