my dog is a dinosaur

Treat me like your personal dog watcher? You can find another place to stay.

Sorry, this might be kinda long. TL;DR at the end.

My sister came home to visit this weekend. She went to college in a town two hours away and liked it so much she stayed there after graduating, but she still comes home to visit sometimes. She always brings her dog, but she has to stay in a kennel in my room because our house is very small and my room is the only place to put the kennel, but she can’t roam the house because we have three cats that are terrified of her whenever she’s here.

This morning I wake up to the dog barking and whining and realize my sister isn’t in the room. I check on the dog and see that my sister gave her a stuffed dinosaur that the cats like to play with, and she’s ripped it to shreds, stuffing everywhere. My sister is in the bathroom, so I knock on the door and tell my her she needs to clean it up if she doesn’t want her dog to eat it like she has before (and that resulted in a $1600 vet bill my dad had to pay for) and I go back to sleep.

I wake up a couple hours later to more barking and whining. My sister’s car is gone, and the dinosaur is still all over the kennel. I pick it up because I don’t want her to get another bowel obstruction, and call my sister to find out where she went, as I suspected that she had gone off with her friends, but she says she’s just getting gas and will be home in 15 minutes. She says don’t worry about taking the dog out to go potty, because she did that before she left and the dog should be good for a while.

An hour later my sister is still gone, and the dog is whining and scratching on her kennel floor. I don’t want to clean up a mess in my room, so I take her outside. When I come back in, my mom says she called my sister, who said she’s with her friends a few towns away. Exactly as I thought! Mom said my sister’s excuse was that she couldn’t ask me to watch the dog because I was sleeping, so just left, but that she’d pay me when she got home. This isn’t the first time my sister has done this, and it’s gotten old real fast. It would be one thing if her dog respected me and listened to me, but I’m not her master (mistress? Let’s just say owner). The dog doesn’t listen to any commands I give her, and frequently tries to pull me across the street to visit the dogs over there. It’s a hassle every time I have to take her out. Did I mention my sister lives with her boyfriend who is part owner of the dog, and she could leave her with him when she comes to town.

Now comes the revenge. My mom and I had a long talk about my sister and her total lack of respect for us and our house. (She comes home saying she wants to spend time with the family but then we don’t ever see her.) My mom decides she’s had enough. Do we bring the cats when we come to her town, and leave them for her to take care of while we do other things? No. Do we come stay with her and leave a mess? No. We never stay the night with her ever, because we respect her space, or lack thereof. We aren’t running a hotel or a kennel service. It’s not my dog, it’s not my responsibility to look after her. It’s not my job to make her bed to be ready when she gets here, just because that bed is in my room. It’s not our job to gather the things she leaves behind when she goes back home to her town, and bring them to her. I suggested an intervention but my mom had other ideas. As of now, my sister isn’t allowed to come home anymore. If she comes to town, she has to find someplace else to stay and someone else to watch her dog. If she wants to do something with us, we’ll make arrangements. Otherwise she has to stay somewhere else, or we will come see her in her town when we have a reason.

TL;DR: my sister is an inconsiderate jerk and my parents and I are sick of it, so she’s not allowed to come home anymore and has to stay somewhere else when she’s in town.

Submitted by: saving-captain-hook

sneksnack  asked:

Hey We love your art and you are very talented, but just wondering, have you actually gotten bored of drawing just cats? Do you draw other things?

Thank you!

The cats do get dull on occasion, or if I’m in an art slump the daily updates feel like a chore. My solution to that though has been the occasional break from the cats (themed weeks with dogs, birds, dinosaurs), or I change up my drawing style. Helps keep things interesting. 

I do have another art blog that is currently collecting dust..I’m not very good at updating that one! You can find it here > Heddar Sketch

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My dog has a serious dinosaur hoarding problem, do you have any advice for him?

No, but my advice for you is to acquire more dinosaurs. (Especially stegosaurus)

anonymous asked:

Do you actually have a dog named Truffles? because omg.

Yes. Although technically she’s my mom’s dog.  Here she is dressed as a dinosaur:

And here is a picture of my mom’s other dog, Vinny:

People without OCD misunderstand it on so many levels. No it’s not a personality trait where you’re irked if things aren’t neat. And it’s not just anxiety either, not just chronic worrying or panic attacks.

OCD molds itself around the mind of whoever has it. It’s fine-tuned to whatever will strike at you most effectively. Sometimes it’s like water, taking the path of least resistance, and carrying you along so smoothly you don’t even realize you’ve been floating away until you’re stranded in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight. Sometimes it’s a surprise precision-strike, taking advantage of a second’s vulnerability and leaves you immediately crumpled on the floor, fully aware of what happened, but powerless to do anything about it after the fact. There are days when it’s just a goddamn pest, buzzing about you head incessantly, and while it’s not making you particularly anxious you just aren’t in the mood for swatting it off–for fuck’s sake, is one day of peace too much to ask for?

Imagine your neighbor has a small yapping dog with the most obnoxious bark a dog can have and it yaps at you non-stop for decades at a time. Now imagine that sometimes it metamorphoses into a vicious wolf, able to break free from its chain to come after you. Sometimes it metamorphoses into a velociraptor–it can open doors, call for friends, outwit you, out-run you and devour you, and all the while convinces you that the pain is all your own doing. Imagine it’s all three at the same time. And it’s also living inside your head. Some days it is your head.

It learns. It adapts to your fears and worries based on your situation on any given day, in any given location. It can even turn in on itself, making you question whether you have it at all. It can take any piece of you and begin picking it apart in to little shreds of doubt, until all you have left of yourself at lunch with your friends, sitting in the chair at the dentist’s office, at  2 am alone in bed, is a pile of scraps quickly burning into ash, and you hope grow back in to a person by morning.

OCD is fucking terrifying–not just what it makes you think, but its very nature, the way it works–and your only weapon against it, at the end of the day, is to train yourself to ignore and endure the terror until it gives up and lets you go.