I came home today and realized that Leon, my blue heeler/lab-type dog is probably on drugs. How do I know this?
Don't let that sweet-boy look fool you. He's doing crack cocaine, and you can't tell me otherwise.
He’s pretty subtle about it, but with my trained journalistic mind, I’ve got it figured out from these five telltale signs.
5. He doesn’t eat his food until the next day. I know that usage of crack cocaine makes people less hungry. I always fill his bowl up, then he stares at it for a minute and goes back to the couch. He eats it while I’m at work, or is possibly selling it for more crack.
4. He thinks the squirrels are after him. He demands to go chase the squirrels off of the back fence, fiendishly whimpering out the back door, then taking off like a shot to rid the yard of squirrels. Either the squirrels are with the DEA, or they’re selling bad shit. Or the paranoia is making him crazy.
3. He steals. I’m sure of it. I know for a FACT that Percy, my male tuxedo cat, has a meth lab in the garage, so why is it out of the realm of possibility that Leon steal money out of my purse? I never have any cash. Who else would do it? I know I didn’t spend it all on Diet Coke and Taco Bueno.
2. He’s moody. I get home from work, and he freaks the fuck out for like 10 minutes, licking and spinning, then retreats to his spot on the couch. I know I’m boring, but does the excitement wear off that quickly?
1. He needs to “go outside” at odd hours of the night. After I’ve taken my bedtime sleepy medicine (thank you, makers of Tylenol PM,) and my senses are dulled thanks to its liver-damaging powers, he immediately scampers to the back door, demanding to be let out. I know there aren’t squirrels out that late (unless they’re covert squirrels… curiouser and curiouser…) and even the mention of the phrase “go outside” makes him slobber a little. Pavlov’s dog, my ass. Pavlov’s crack addict is more like it.
I don’t know what to do about this. Do you think they “Dog Intervention” would be a good show for A&E? And if you take this idea and run for it, I’ll turn my crack-addled dog and meth-making cat on you.
Oh, the carnage. There will be blood.
The Garish Chicken 