The Bastard Dog

FURIOUS. Having rearranged the front room to accommodate The Baby’s insanely large play pen I decided the sofas needed brightening up and as such retrieved some of my “spare cushions” hidden away so no grubby fingers or paws could get them. 
Less than 24 hours later and The Dog has been given ANOTHER one of them by I assume a very drunk Bearded One and has already ruined it! I no longer have any plush “snuggle blankets” because the stupid dog gets given them when The Bearded One is feeling sorry for him and I’m not around to say no. Now he’s got my bloody cushions!
I must point out that I am not completely heartless but The Dog is 13 now with suspected cancer and is totally incontinent, that’s why I’m having such a meltdown. On top of the incontinence he has a tumour on his leg which keeps bleeding. The vets prescribed steroids to calm the aggression down but that only exacerbated his incontinence! So no amount of washing or dry cleaning will ever make those blankets or cushions useable again. Also I spend a ridiculous amount of time per day washing his bedding and cleaning the floors. I of course want The Dog to be comfortable, which he is, in his Dog bed. All I ask is that our “human” cushions and blankets remain that way. 
I am reminded frequently that “he’s an old dog and doesn’t have long left”. 
“YOU won’t have long left if you keep giving him my fucking cushions!”
I am however very smug and take great delight when The Bearded One loses his shit because The Dog has peed everywhere. I walk past handing him some cleaning products calming pointing out “he’s an old dog and doesn’t have long left”. I can hear the “fuck off”‘s under his breath. 
On one particular occasion The Dog followed The Bearded One into the kitchen and out into the garden peeing and pooing for the entire duration. We immediately start performing a (literally) shit version of The Chuckle Brothers “to me, to you” routine. I’m sending The Dog outside, he’s sending him inside and The Dog has no fucking clue what’s happening. 
The Dog has been the centre of many “debates” (aka the mother of all arguments) and I have now reluctantly admitted defeat once again and accepted the fact that the bastard will outlive us all. So for now I think it is best we make his last few days, weeks, months, years, lifetimes as comfortable as we can. And how will he be most comfortable? Sleeping on The Bearded One’s clothes from now on of course! 

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