Today my mother-in-law visited our family. She brought her two chihuahuas. This detail was unfortunate for I was already having another depressing day. As I was unloading her luggage, I tried petting the black one, but he growled with hatred and tried biting my hand. I immediately snapped back and took a mental note of his aggression. We had a wonderful lunch as a family and while eating, I noticed that the two chihuahuas were begging for food scraps. Not hesitating, my mother-in-law fed them from the table. By the end of lunch the dogs had each consumed turkey, corn, french fries and a Chips Ahoy cookie. Puzzled, I sat there wondering if their small stomachs could handle that amount of food. But like most midday thoughts, I quickly forgot them and went on living my mundane life. Shortly after lunch, we all shared a pot of Columbian coffee. The coffee was weak and had a slight metallic taste to it. As I drank, I noticed that the dogs were sitting on the couch with my mother-in-law. The spotted dog was wheezing in what seemed to be some sort of asthmatic episode. The black dog was licking himself and could barely reach his genitals due to the large amount of food swelling his gut. My mother-in-law, oblivious to their actions, seemed unfazed as she clipped her toenails on my couch. The coffee began to taste more metallic, perhaps from the rage coursing through my salivary glands. I made an aggressive sigh, hoping to draw attention to the fact that I try to maintain a clean, dog-free home. But my sigh fell on deaf ears. My daughter, who was lying on the floor, asked the black chihuahua to come over to her. Swollen and unmotivated, he rolled onto the floor and proceeded towards her. Having arrived at her head, he took a deep breath and vomited all of his lunch on her hair. As if a hair full of vomit wasn’t enough, there was also an abundant amount of blood spewing from his small-framed mouth. And yet, my mother-in-law continued to clip her gangly nails. My wife, now in a fit of panic, rushed over to lift my daughter off the floor. She rushed her to the bathroom to give her a much needed bath. My mother-in-law cried out a somewhat faint, “I’m sorry.” The black chihuahua nestled up next to my young son, as if nothing of note had just occurred.
Later that afternoon, after just returning from a nice relaxing jog, I decided to jump in the shower and clean up. As I entered the shower I was quickly alarmed as I noticed a thick layer of dog hair covered the tub floor. At first I was not sure which of the two dogs had left the mess, but then I noticed spots of blood and a kernel of corn and the mystery was solved. The black one had yet again left his mark on my life. I spent the next few minutes wiping down the shower with a roll of toilet paper. After using every square of paper on the roll, I was finally ready to bathe. I jumped in and began to lather. After a solid wash, I got out and started to shave. The shave was relaxing and I only nicked my faced a half dozen times. Unfortunately, I was now out of toilet paper so I was left with a tremendous amount of blood dripping from my face. Frustrated, I began to cry, but quickly regained my composure once I felt the urge to defecate. I sat down on the toilet seat and proceeded to release my rock-hard stool. Having felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, I reached for the roll of toilet paper only to rediscover that I was still out. I knew my only course of action was to continue on with my routine and wipe later. I got dressed and headed to the living room.
As I entered the living room I immediately smelled a horrid, grotesque scent roaming throughout the air. It smelled like rectum and death mixed together. Noticing that everyone was taking a mid-afternoon nap, I yelled out for everyone to wake up. My family almost instantly smelled the horrible scent. My wife asked if someone had shit their pants. My daughter started gagging. My son started to cry. But my mother-in-law continued to sleep. We eventually were able to wake her and she assured us that the smell we were experiencing was coming from a popped anal gland. She pointed to the spotted chihuahua and told us that sometimes his anal glands got so swollen that they burst open. This made me feel helpless as I noticed he was sitting on my couch. This was extra concerning for me because I had not engaged in regular intercourse with my wife in years and had spent many sleepless nights alone on that couch. My sleeping area had now been tainted with the anal juices of a ten pound dog. My mother-in-law used a piece of toilet paper from her purse to soak up as much anal juice as she could. She then used the toilet paper to wipe the spotted dog’s anus. This action not only pissed me off, but also reminded me that I had yet to wipe my own anus. Seeing the irony of the situation, I was able to calm myself down and went to get some cleaning supplies.
Later that evening we decided to have a family cookout in the backyard. The kids played on the trampoline while my wife and mother-in-law discussed how they could fix my newly landscaped flower bed. As I stood alone at the grill, I noticed the spotted dog to the back of the yard. He was pacing in a circle, clearly eyeballing something that was on the ground. I placed the spatula down and headed towards the fence line. As I approached I noticed the spotted dog had found a dead opossum. Having always had a tremendous fear of opossums, I stopped in my tracks. That’s when the spotted dog decided to roll around in the dead carcass. I threw up a little in my mouth and headed back towards the grill. About fifteen minutes later, we started eating our dinner. My children picked through their food with no real interest of eating anything of nutritional value, while my wife complained about how her chicken was undercooked. My mother-in-law ate two bites of her food and then fed the chihuahuas the rest. I questioned this move as I had witnessed what happens when they eat too much human food. At this point I noticed my son giving the spotted dog a big bear hug and a kiss on the face. I realized that he had just been in intimate contact with a dead opossum. I started to have a brief anxiety attack before realizing that my ass crack was extremely itchy from forgetting to wipe. I tried to sneak a quick scratch, attempting to pawn it off as a wedgie removal. My wife immediately spotted my bluff and began an array of verbal and abusive remarks. Feeling abused and small, I left the dinner and went inside.
After going inside I began to question my own existence. I began to question the existence of God; wondering how a perfect God would create chihuahuas. As I stood in front of the living room window, I noticed the mailman enter the driveway carrying a package. Before I could greet him outside, my mother-in-law came from around the house and got his attention. She was carrying the black dog with her. I could tell the mailman was hesitant to approach the dog, probably having had many unpleasant encounters with dogs in the past. My mother-in-law insisted that the black dog was nice and that he wouldn’t bite. The mailman handed my mother-in-law the package, at which point the black dog viciously bit him. He fell to his knees in pain and yelled out many obscenities. As blood poured down his hands and into his mail bag, I saw the spotted dog sneak around the corner and urinate all over his shoe. My mother-in-law kind of giggled and went back to the backyard, leaving the mailman frightened, injured and alone. I shook my head in embarrassment and disgust, knowing that from this point on I would never have a friendly relationship with my postman. It was at this exact moment I decided to take my own life.
I had just finished making my noose and securing it to one of the rafters in the garage when I started to question whether or not I was making the right decision. As I pondered, I saw both chihuahuas eating out of the my cat’s litter box. They ate with as much force as two obese men at a buffet. They both grunted when they ate and one let out a very squeaky flatulent. I had had enough and secured the noose around my neck. I climbed up on a chair and said a quick prayer to whatever god would listen. I took a deep breath and knocked the chair out from under me. The blow was harsh and sudden and immediately I began to lose much needed oxygen. I struggled to stay composed and started to panic. As the oxygen became less and less, I started to see stars and wheeze out loud. It was at this point I began to feel extreme pain from my toes. I was able to peer down to find both chihuahuas biting at my feet. They bit with such anger; such aggression. I began swinging my feet to try to get them to stop. The spotted one latched on to my pinky toe and sunk his teeth into my flesh. The black one nibbled at my big toe before stopping to vomit cat feces. I kicked harder but to no prevail. I thought to myself how depressing it was that this would be my final memory; me alone in the garage hanging from the rafters with two pint-sized dogs destroying my feet. How pathetic. As I continued to kick and sway back in forth, I felt a sudden thud. I had fallen from the rafters and landed on the hard cement floor. My feet were bleeding and covered in vomit. I had wet myself. I smelled like an un-wiped buttocks. But I was alive, and for that I guess I was thankful. At this point my wife opened the garage door to find me lying there. She stared at me for a few seconds before indicating that she had been cheating on me with the postman and that she wanted a divorce. She slammed the door shut and left me there with the dogs. As I stared at their tiny faces I was reminded why I hated chihuahuas so much.
Jim's Midlife Crisis 