Ernie, The Terrorist Puppy Lives THE Life

My little baby boy isn’t a baby anymore!

Ernie turned 3 on December 26th so he’s no longer a puppy but he IS still a terrorist.. especially when it comes to my pillows or anything with stuffing.

But he’s very much Mommy’s baby..

In fact, the only thing I have to say is “… whoooo’s thhheee BAAAAYYYbeeee” and he jumps up in my arms, throws himself backwards like he’s an infant.

Doesn’t matter how rambunctious he is.. as soon as I say it BAM! And you can just hear his little cartoon voice saying, “.. I AM the Baby!! I AM!!”

Yes, we do have cartoon voices for our dogs.  Ernie’s is a high pitched little boy’s voice and Bella’s sounds like Queen Elizabeth. No lie. We’re weird.

I wasn’t in the market for another dog that day 3 January’s ago when I walked into the kitchen, half groggy, and Chief whispered “PUPPIES!” in my ear!

Yes! Yes! PUPPIES!! PUPPIES!! PUPPIES!!

It takes sooooo little to make me loose my mind!

Chief wanted Spaz to have a dog.. one that would be his best friend.. who would give him unconditional love.

That didn’t happen because Spaz didn’t want to put the time in to bond with Ernie. As soon as it became inconvenient, Spaz didn’t want anything to do with them. One reason why people should really think long and hard before getting a puppy. Hmph.

But Ernie wasn’t going to lack in the love department.. between ME the queen of dogs and Chief, who melts faster then butter in heat when it comes to the dogs, Ernie became well.. THE BAAAAYYYBBBBEEEE.

My fault.

I own it.

But look at that face!! How can you resist?

And yes, he’s a vocal, neurotic mess. But he’ll never have to worry about some one else trying to understand him and his language.

Because make no mistake.. this dog TALKS.

He also HAS to sleep under the covers. He’s never figured out that he can’t get under the covers when he stands on them.. but that’s when he gets obnoxious and tells us that he wants under.

And then does the 3 turn ritual before finally laying down behind the crook of either of our knees. Waits 5 minutes and then crawls out because he’s hot. This goes on about 4 or 5 times before Chief yells at him and he dives under the bed with his ears back.

Why am I posting about Ernie?

Sleep deprivation?

Lack of caffeine?

Boredom?

All of the above?

LOL .. I have no idea. He’s such a cuddle monkey that when he came in from the freezing rain he couldn’t wait to get all warm and cozy next to Mommy.

And just so you know…

I’m not one of those in people that think their dogs are kids. I’m fully aware that my dogs are dogs and treat them like dogs… I don’t put clothes on them.. don’t put bows in their hair or paint their nails.

But they have my heart..

We think that the reason why Ernie is SO OBNOXIOUSLY attached is because he was taken from his mama too young.. make sense.. he was sort of like a duckling imprinting on the first thing he sees.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.. because Ernie (and Bella!!) are to me what he was suppose to be for Spaz.

An ear to vent to.. cuddles for comfort.. company when lonely.. and goofy giggles.

Two days before Christmas, Ernie and Bella got out of the house while me and Chief were food shopping.

The front door hadn’t been closed properly and when the high winds blew open the screen door, the front door opened also.

Ernie, being Ernie darted out.

Bella, being Bella, followed.

We didn’t know how long they were missing and had no clue which direction they went.

I was literally heart sick for two very different reasons.

Bella is old.. almost 15 and gimpy. She wouldn’t be able to get far physically but I was worried that trying to keep up with Ernie she would collapse.. maybe get hit by a car.. or the trolley .. or have a heart attack.

Ernie, being young and spy could have been in Oregon for all I knew.

The fear was crippling.. I understand how parents feel when their kid doesn’t come home. We literally ran all over the town looking for them.

Spaz finally found them, literally across the street in the cemetery. When I got the call that they were home, I sat on the one of the neighborhood curbs and thanked God with everything I had in me.

And I have absolutely no clue why I’m going into all this.. exhaustion I guess.. and maybe because both dogs are loudly snoring next to my bed and it’s the most comforting sound.

Pillow Fight

Yea..

Believe me.. the two involved look NO WHERE near the two hot girls on the right!!

Anyway..

So I think I posted before about how Ernie, The Terrorist Puppy likes to rape my pillows. Anything with stuffing really, but my bed pillows are his Mecca because whenever I leave the house I put them away so he doesn’t get the gooshy stuff all over them.

But the other day I was being lazy and in the five minutes it took me to drive to the shop.. pick up Chief.. and drive home he went bat shit with them.

There was NO WAY in hell that I was going to sleep on them so I drove over to WalMart to get new ones.

I hate WalMart. Actually, I loathe WalMart but when you’re in need of six pillows.. can’t really afford six pillows.. then WalMart’s 2.50 pillow is a necessary evil.

NOTE: I like a lot of pillows.. Chief doesn’t.. so six meets both our needs.

So I drive over there and guess what? I guess China had to lay off a few child laborers because their pillows are now 3.98. I had to also grab cat food, shampoo and conditioner for me and body wash for the Y chromosomes in my house. I only had 44.00 to my name. So my math but me just at the YOU HAVE NO MONEY NOW threshold.

Anyway..

So I get up to the check out line where the cashier is an older women with severe alopecia. :: Don’t think I spelled that right and really am too lazy to spell check but I’m talking about the balding disease :: Working with the public, I have a soft spot with cashiers so I give her a big ‘ol friend HI! and start putting the pillows up on the counter.

She tells me that I don’t need to PUT ALL THOSE PILLOWS on her counter and I was like, ok… she’s being a little rude but whatever.

She asks me how many I have and I tell her six. I could have told her four.. she would have never known.. but that’s stealing and I don’t steal so I told her the truth.

Her eye-roll wasn’t helping me deal with her rudeness but again, I let it go. It’s WalMart after all.

She gives me the total :: 43-something.. Whoosh! :: and I asked her if she had bags big enough for the pillows.

That was actually a redundant question because the line next to the one I was in had bigger bags folded over the cash register wall.

But the bitch said NO. YOU’LL JUST HAVE TO CARRY THEM.

And I was like.. WTF? So I said, “.. you don’t have any bags that the pillows would fit in?” She again says no and I gave her my OWN eye roll :; which was more deadly then hers :: and pointed to the bags hanging on the other cashiers wall. “.. what are those?”

If she was smart, she would have apologized and said something about maybe forgetting about them or whatever but I guess she figured she was committed and was intent on following through with her denial so she gave me the LAMEST excuse about THOSE bags not being HER bags and she wasn’t ALLOWED to use them.

Oh. So you’re telling me that I’m buying six big ass pillows and as a customer I’m not ALLOWED to have them in a BAG? Why do you SELL things that you don’t have BAGS for??

She kind of gave me this look that I interpreted as “.. so now what, bitch”

The line behind me had grown and people started to get that antsy body language that most people standing in line at WalMart get so I said, “… take them off.”

She was like, “What?”

I said, “If you don’t have a bag to put them in then I don’t want them.”

She said, “.. but I already rang them up”

I said, “.. then take them off.”

Because what I know.. that she didn’t think I knew.. was that when they have to void something.. a manager has to approve it and I’m sure the thought crossed her mind that if she had to call her manager I was going to tell the manager just why I didn’t want the stupid pillows and that would get her in trouble.

I could see that very scene playing across her face so she said, “.. well, I guess you could use those bags.” Meaning the ones on the other register. And I was like, “Nope. I don’t want them now. Void them.”

The people behind me were really starting to grumble now and she tried to get stern with me, “USE THE BAGS.”

“DO THE VOID”

So she had no choice but to do the void and when she rang for the manager and when the manager came over and started the void process, I made sure I told her exactly why she was doing the void. She was half paying attention but when the void was finally completed, I guess it dawned on her what I was saying because she was like, “WHAT?”

Yep. I told her again.

She looked at the women and asked her why she would do that?  That that was ridiculous. And then she apologized profusely to me saying that they don’t have a “bag” policy at the cash registers. I said that I didn’t think so and how hard it would be to carry the six pillows into the house without making three trips.. she was all over it. Saying how she knew that..especially because one end of the pillow bag is open. So I feign resignation and tell her that now I had to drive to the OTHER WalMart a few towns over because I really need the pillows but I’ll be sure to mention how helpful and understanding SHE (the manager) was in my letter of complaint to the corporate office.

I think that made the hair start growing on the cashiers head.

The manager was all over herself and told me on the sly that if I took the pillows to the customer service desk, she would make sure that I got 2 of them for free.

Believe me.. I wasn’t looking to get ANYTHING for free.. I was just pissed off at the cashier who didn’t want to be bothered putting six pillows in bags.. but I did what the manager suggested and got my free pillows.

You can rest assured that I will NEVER go into WalMart again.. but if I absolutely HAVE to then I will seek out the bald cashier and get into her line.

Because. yknow.. If you’re going to think I’m a bitch then I’m going to give you a reason.

WARNING: I’m Going On A Major Rant Here

.. I say this because the last time I went on a rant about I vented about my douchebag husband and his blobs of DNA swamp pool spawn, I got a finger wagging and a  lecture from some one :: sorry, Dude.. don’t remember your name and really don’t feel like looking it up :: who said that I was “having a bad day” and taking it out on Chief .. that I was “.. beating him up over his kids” .. that I “.. beat him up for not have good parents” and that I don’t talk to him in the manner I should.

No.. this isn't me. Although I think she might be pretty cute if she wasn't so frustrated!!

So Mr. Why-Don’t-Read-Delve-Alittle-Further-Before-Berating-Me .. you might not want to read any further.

Ok.

So lets back up to last night.

All day yesterday I’ve been chest issues. There was a pain in the center of my chest and it felt like I was having a hard time breathing. It may just be the after math of jumping over the counter last week because believe me.. there’s been aches and pains in places where I haven’t had aches and pains before. Remember.. I’m not as young as I used to be!

So the big question of the day was what were we going to have for dinner. It’s ALWAYS the big question of the day but since it’s been soooo fucking hot and humid where I live, I wasn’t looking forward to turning on the oven or standing in front of the stove. So he decided we’d hit a drive through.

After we closed the store and got into the car, it NOW became the debate of WHICH drive through to go to. I told him I didn’t care because I really didn’t feel like eating anyway.

He HATES when I don’t eat. HATES IT. Like.. he’s my grandmother reincarnated. I told him that I really didn’t feel good.. really shouldn’t even have been driving and just wanted to go home and go to sleep. He asked me if I wanted to go to the doctors, to which I replied he could make an appointment for me when I’m dead.

The usual banter.

So we wound up at Burger King and after ordering value meals for them, I decided to just get a mini burger in case I got hungry later. I hadn’t eaten anything all day and figured that once I wake up feeling better I may have an appetite. So we get everything and we get home and as soon as  I come through the back door and see all the crap in the sink and all the stuff left out on the counters when it should have been in the fridge and all the crumbs and the over flowing trash can.. I walk into the dining room where Bubba was on the computer and Spaz was on the couch and said, “… nobody’s eating until the kitchen it cleaned the way it’s suppose to be.”

Chief was like, “.. yea! What’s this about? Get off your asses and clean up your mess! How many times have I told you to pick up after yourselves…” blah blah blah blah blah.

So Bubba get up and goes into the kitchen and Spaz comes running up to me saying that he told Bubba to do his dishes.. blah blah blah blah blah.

We finally sit at the table..

Wait.

Back up..

Earlier when I doing Weed’s laundry, Bubba had gotten up at 4pm and immediately him and Spaz started arguing over the computer. It was a good thing that I had to bring Weed his clothes then or else I think I would have knifed them both.

Not pretty. But real, none the less.

So when we got back to the house, I figured since both of them were home that Chief needed to address the fighting over the computer issue which is why I sat at the table instead of going to bed.

I should have went to bed.

Trust on that.

We’re sitting there and after Chief asks me why I only got a mini burger and after me telling him because my chest really, really hurts.. I say, “.. we need to have a conversation about the computer and all the fighting that’s going on about because truthfully, I can’t take it anymore.”

Chief was like, “.. yea.. no body is allowed on the computer for more then two hours at a time.”

And then Bubba said something about not liking mayo or steak sauce or something and Spaz said that he liked mayo and Chief just went right down that road discussing the pros and cons of various condiments.

So yea.. nothing accomplished there.

I got done eating half a mini burger.. gave the other half to the dogs.. and when I went into the bedroom I had forgotten that I had started sorting the our laundry earlier. So I got up.. went down the basement.. got the extra laundry hamper.. came back upstairs.. put the whites in one and the darks in the other..

Chief asked me if I was doing laundry now and I told him.. no, my chest is hurting.

As I dragged the hampers out into the dining room, Bubba was playing with Ernie the Terrorist Puppy and he asked me if I saw the sore on his back. When I went to look, I saw what  must have been four or five fleas.

Now I had given both dogs flea baths and used Frontline on them not even a month ago so I was a little put off about that. But seeing the sore on the dogs back, I couldn’t not just let that go.

So I tell Chief that the dogs are going to have to be bathed. He said he would take the out so that Ernie would be on the leash since I had to wash them in the tub and there was NO. WAY. IN. HELL. that Ernie was getting anywhere NEAR the tub.. he dives under the bed whenever you pick up a spray bottle.

Any spray bottle.

So while he’s outside with the dogs, I get the spray thing for the tub faucet and the flea stuff and the towel. He brings Ernie into the bathroom, I lift him up into the tub and start shampooing him. Chief says he’ll be right back and hands me the leash.

Now.. what the FUCK am I suppose to do with that? My hands are all soapy and sudsy and I can’t continue to wash him and told the leash at the same time so I call for Spaz and tell him to hold the leash.

Spaz is talking a mile a minute asking asinine question after asinine question and answering them himself.

I just drowned him out and continued doing what I was doing. But when I finished, my back was killing me .. my chest was hurting more and I knew that there was NO way in hell that I was going to be able to wash Bella in the tub. She’s too big a gal and I wasn’t going to be able to lift her in.. lift her out.. OR manage washing everything on her that needed to be washed.

She’s like a baby seal.

So after Ernie is all finished and running around the house like the Crack Whore on speed, I go into the bedroom and there’s Chief, sitting on the bed playing on the PS3.

You’re kidding me, right?

That important?

Ok.

So I tell him that I’m going to have to wash Bella outside in the kiddie pool because I can’t lift her into the tub.

No response.

I say it again.. no response.

Mind you, I’m about two feet away from him.

Mind you, he played PS3 ALL. FUCKING. DAY at the store.

So finally  I was like CHIEF!!!!!!!!!!!

He was like, “.. oh. I’m sorry. What did you say?”

So I told him again and he was like, “ok.”

So I was like, “… you going to help me or what?”

“… oh yea.. yea.. I’ll help you. Just get everything ready.”

I bit my tongue and went down the basement.. connected the hose to the laundry tub sink.. ran the house up the steps and outside.. got the kiddie pool set up.. get the towel .. got the shampoo.. got BELLA.. and waited.

And waited.

While I was waiting, I checked Bella for fleas and OMG did she have them. She has a really, really think undercoat and long Lassie-like hair that I cut back when it gets warm. There always one spot on the back right about her tail that is always balding so when I checked her and saw soooo many fleas, I was literally at a loss. Meanwhile, the mosquitos started hitting so I go in the house and went into the bedroom to see what’s holding Chief up and he’s STILL playing PS3 AND he even started another 10 minutes round.

I was like, “… what are you doing?”

He said, “.. I’m just playing this match”

I said, “.. you were just playing a match before when I came in”

He said, “.. I know but it sucked so I started another one.”

And then he called for Spaz to help me because.. yknow.. playing Call of Duty is SO MUCH MORE important then helping me, right?

Silly fool I am.

So me and Spaz are outside and I’m trying to direct him in actually helping me but he just wants to play with the hose. I literally go in the pool with the dog and sat in the water in order to do what I had to do to get the fleas off her. And then he slapped a mosquito off his leg and said, “.. ok. I’m going in.” and left.

Now.. not only is my chest hurting but add on top of it the frustration.. the anger.. and all the other rainbow of emotions that were going on and I was literally  just on the verge of a breakdown.

I finally get the dog washed and dried off.. go back into the house.. put the hose away.. put the clothes that had been in the washer in the dryer.. put all the dog stuff away.. wash the glasses and utensils that were STILL in the sink :: because LORD KNOWS when you say “.. do the dishes” they only DO THE DISHES :: .. clean up the shit that was still on the dining room table.. go into the bedroom where Chief finally turned off the PS3 but was all engrossed in Bill O’Reilly… changed out of my wet clothes.. then went into the bathroom and scrubbed the tub.

When I was finished.. I went back in the bedroom and said to him, ”.. yknow if I didn’t do anything because it was hard.. or boring.. or because I just don’t want to do it, nothing in this fucking house would get done”

HE said, “.. what did Spaz not help you?”

And I said, “.. YOU didn’t help me. HE didn’t help me. NOBODY helps me’

And with that he clammed up with nothing to say.. put on the History Channel and I just got in bed went to sleep.

This morning he wakes me up at 630am because I have to drive Weed all the way back to the rehab place because he forgot to take home his wallet and GOD FORBID if he didn’t have his ID to buy booze. And I had to go early because.. omg! Can’t leave Chief out on a limb, right?

He goes out into the kitchen and I hear him say, ”.. you’re kidding, right? You’re kidding me, right?”

Because at 630am, Bubba was still up from the night before on the computer. I don’t know what Bubba said but Chief didn’t say anything else and as I got dressed and was walking out of the bedroom I reminded Chief that it was trash day. He takes the bag from the trash can and calls for Bubba.

Who doesn’t answer.

He YELLS for Bubba.

Who doesn’t answer.

He SCREAMS for Bubba .. who doesn’t answer because he has headphones on. Chief goes out into the dining room and tells Bubba to put a trash bag in the trashcan.

Now, I’m still hurting from last night. Emotionally more then anything so I’m not my usual giddy self and was thankful that I had to drive an hour or so up and back with Weed because I really didn’t want to be around Chief so much. But this afternoon, around 3, we’re sitting in the back of the store and Chief says to me, “.. I know you were upset last night but honestly, I started to not feel good around dinner.”

I just said, “.. I didn’t feel good either.”

He was like, “.. I’m sorry.” But not in the remorseful way.. more in the snarky way?

End of conversation.

Of course.

So I leave the store and have to stop at the supermarket to get something for dinner and when I got back.. a replay of what I found last night in the kitchen was before me.

Dishes.. crumbs.. butter left out.. you name it.

So I said something like, “.. you got to be fucking kidding me” and Spaz heard me and came into the kitchen trying to maneuver between me and the sink.

I asked him what he was doing and he was like, “.. oh, I want to help you.”

And I was like, “.. No. You’re not going to come in here at 5 o’clock to “help” me when you had all damn day to “help me” but you didn’t want to then so don’t think you’re going to do it now and act like you’re all great and wonderful because let me tell you Bucky, you’re not.”

I think I might have told him to just leave me alone.

And you know what? I don’t feel one little iota of guilt about it either.

He leaves but then comes back a few minutes later to tell me that the reason why he slept out in the living room was because HIS room is FULL OF FLEAS.

Really?

REALLY?

So I said, ‘.. how could YOUR room be filled with fleas when the dogs aren’t even IN your room but they SLEEP in my room.. SLEEP IN MY BED and OUR room ISN’T FULL OF FLEAS?”

He couldn’t answer that because it wasn’t true. Because if his room was full of fleas, he would have been yelling, screaming and hollaring the night before because he yells, screams and hollars about EVERYTHING that bothers him.

And while I’m washing the dishes and scrubbing the counter, Bubba comes in and says that their room IS full of fleas.. at least TEN.. and I told him the same thing AND asked him why he didn’t put the trash bag in the trash can like his father asked him to and he said he didn’t hear him.. he said that Chief told him to do the dishes and I wearily said, No.. he did not.. but even IF he did.. YOU STILL DIDN”T DO THE DISHES.

He walks out of the kitchen because there’s nothing he can say either and so I continue to clean their mess and when I got to the stove where there was dried up egg and melted cheese and bits of ham all over it AND the wall.. I went to move a pot that’s been sitting on the back burner with a little frying pan on top of it :: I have limited space for my pots and pans :: and..

And..

OH MY FUCKING GOD I ALMOST THREW THE FUCK UP.

Because in that pot that’s been sitting on the back burner for a few weeks because I haven’t been cooking the way I normally so because it’s been ungodly hot and humid .. was a ring of sausage that Chief started to cook a few Sundays ago. Apparently, he finished boiling it.. changed his mind on what he was going to do with it.. and put the little frying pan on top of it as a lid.. and forgot about it.

The STENCH alone was vomit inducing.

The maggots.. well, I won’t tell you what happened when I saw the maggots.

Yes. You read that right.

And believe me.. I am so mortally embarrassed to have to even write that. I am mortified that I have to tell ANY of this but THIS is what I’m dealing with.. THIS is what I have to put up with.. THIS is what Mr. Berate Me For Not Being More Sympathetic To The Douche Bag needs to know.

So I call Chief up.

“.. remember that sausage you made a while ago?”

“yea”

“.. do you know what happened to it?”

“um…. silence… silence.. silence.. oh.”

So I tell him that you thought not having a trash bag in the trash can like you told your son to do this morning is bad? You think all the dishes and shit on the counter is bad? Yea.. nothing compares to a pot full of maggots.

He kept saying “I’m sorry” and when I didn’t respond.. I mean, really.. how are you suppose to respond to that???? .. he was did the PLEADING Im sorry.

When I told him that I had to hang up and de-stench-ify the kitchen, he had the BALLS to ask what was for dinner.

I told him whatever I could cook that didn’t make me want to throw the fuck up in the process.

So right now I’m SO WAY BEYOND pissed and I know how I am when I get like this and I really should just get up and go out until he’s asleep because this is not going to be pretty.

At all.

I’m Suing The WPCA, SPCA, ASPCA and PETA for Emotional Extortion!

Ok.. I’m done.

I’m in bed with Chief snoring next to me.. Moan-ah at the foot of the bed.. and Ernie, The Terrorist Puppy doing his neurotic OMG I HAVE TO GET UNDER THE COVERS routine and doesn’t stop until he’s all wrapped up like a burrito.

The dog’s an idiot.

The internet is not offering anything stimulating so I figured I’ll turn on the tv because that will put me to sleep in like.. 5 minutes.

I switch the channel to Discover I.D. or something like that..

So I’m watching this show and then THE commercial comes on..

The sad music..

The voice over saying, “… she watched her mother get shot and now she lives in a wooden box.”

The video showing a baby monkey in a crate..

No! NO! NOOOOOOOO!!!

The voice over saying, “.. he watched his mother get beaten to death”

The video showing a baby bear cub.. patches of hair missing.. iron collar around his neck chained to a post..

The voice over saying, “.. now he gets beaten unless he dances”

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

I start humming out loud, desperately trying to find the remote that’s all twisted up in the Ernie burrito..

The voice overs keep coming, “.. she saw her sisters be drown” … “he saw his mother worked to death”..

And I’m afraid to even THINK about looking at the television screen because if there’s anything.. ANYTHING.. I’m a sucker for it’s animals and seeing pictures like that.. or hearing stories like that.. or even THINKING about things happening like that make me a big puddle of weepy jello ..

I go to jump out of bed and manually change the channel but I forgot Bella is sleeping on the floor next to the bed so when I put my feet on the floor, I accidentally step on her.. and of COURSE it would be on the side where she has really bad arthritis on her hip.. so she yelps and gets up and starts hobbling..

Now I’m devastated and I’m trying NOT to step on her again as I try to get around her and her black coat in a dark room when I catch a picture of the baby donkey with it’s front leg tied to it’s back leg trying to walk and then I just LOST IT.

LOST IT!

I start the whole silent sob thing because of what’s been lasered into my brain and because of hurting Bella and of course, I’m not really silent doing anything so it wakes Chief up.

He gets all panicky because I’m crying and he’s trying to get me to tell him what’s wrong and I can’t get the words out so all I can do it point at the tv and then he gets it.

Because if there is only one thing this man knows.. he knows how I am and how I get when animals are involved.

It’s the sole reason why I’m not allowed to name the fish.

So he does his whole boo-boo face “awwww” thing and while I’m crying on his shoulder about all the cruelty in the world he tells me I’m adorable and this.. THIS.. THIS COMPASSION is the reason why he loves me so much.

And here I thought it was my hot, rockin’ body!!

I start to get over myself and apologize for waking him up and he tells me it’s fine.. and then goes on this litany of why these organizations make these commercials just to get reactions like this from pathetic people like me.

ME: Um.. wait? I’m pathetic? Didn’t you just say I was adorable?

HIM: Well.. um.. your adorable BECAUSE you’re pathetic.

ME: You’re an asshole.

HIM: I know..

ME: Good night, honey.

HIM: ‘Night, baby.

‘Cause that’s just how we roll!

Ernie, The Terrorist Puppy Found God..

.. and then he ate him

Oh.. that little dog!!!

He’s going to need all the God in him that he can get once Chief gets home!!! LOL