I just finished perusing the puppy posts of this chick's website. My sister (yeah her blog is still blocked for some unknown reason-- I can't even read it) introduced me to her, and though I am certain she's a vapid narcissist-- she's kinduv addicting. The thing is, when I read/see/hear/watch other people with their dogs-- particularly their little dogs, I have a slight desire to kill myself.

Before I explain, Tweak is the love of my life and honestly the only reason I survived 2008. He's adorable. Misleadingly so. And yes, I did name him after a street narcotic. (Initially I thought I was naming him after a character on Southpark, not at all aware of why that character had that name or of all the uber naughtiness that occurs on the show.) Meaning, most parents do not, or should not, let their small children watch that show. So when I explain my dog's name to random people with small children I have to either explain a) the drug or b) the show or c) pretend like I just said some sound-effect quirky word and hope the parents are oblivious to the other, already stated, meanings.

Back to my point: Most people have dogs who listen to them. Who can be brushed. Most people do not receive emergency phone calls from the groomer because the groomer has been attacked by their six pound puppy. More. Than. Once. Two weeks ago he had an altercation with the vet. When the assistant handed him back to me she nervously laughed and quipped,

"He's a little six-pound terrorist, isn't he?"

Thank you, George W., for making that such an accessible term for everyone.

Most people laugh and smile and love my dog because he jumps and plays and loves, loves, loves, people. And they love him, so long as he doesn't bite their face off or nibble their child's toes down to a stump. He's not always being mean-- he's just...mouthy.

And I'm a crappy owner.

My boyfriend thinks I have trained him terribly (I have). My sister won't go near him for fear that he'll bite her (he will). I can't take him to any other groomers- I've tried all of them and no one can get him to calm down. He barks vehemently at everything. I tried a lemon-oil anti-bark spray collar....but he's so tiny that it hung like a doorbell around his neck and only went off if he barked deep, growl-y barks. So now he's been conditioned to yip at excruciatingly high decibels. He went to training classes with German Shepherd dogs and professionals and they couldn't get him to do anything because he doesn't like treats.

And the saddest part of it all? It's my fault. He's just being a dog. With a mental problem. Who jumped out of my arms as a puppy and landed on his head and...I'm wondering if that might play a part in this....

Believe me, I've read the books. I've tried the classes. I've washed him every week since he came to me at 1 pound straight off of the internet and he still bites and scratches and tries to claw his way out of the tub. He's got so much energy I can't even run or walk him enough to wear him out. I am a 5'4" adult who is athletic in a non-cardio-sorta-way and I can't run/walk enough to wear out my pup. A treadmill onto which I will tie him is in order, I think.

I adore this dog. But when clearly cracked-out, totally jacked-up-out-of-their-minds homeless people walk up to me when I'm with Tweak (they laugh and pet him), and tell me, "Wow, that is one CARAAAZY dog!!", I know I've got a problem.

Just not sure how to fix it....