A Cure for Narcissism
I never really understood why people have dogs. Its like having something else to worry about besides yourself. It’s a waste of money, money which could have been spent on your own hedonistic pleasures. Then one day I discovered why. You see, everyone who ever had any parents needs psychological therapy. I was unlucky, I had two. So nature created the dog as a kind of a homeopathic remedy.
This happened to me. Nature recognised what my parents had done to me and that I needed help. So I arrived one day from work to this puppy thing in my house. It looked like a maggot, fat and short, with 4 little sticks for legs and two floppy ears.
All it could do was waddle around and squeak. So I thought I would swing by the swimming pool, drown it, then, on my way to the kitchen drop it in the bin, then grab a beer and watch my favourite blue movie. I was busy with step 1 of this plan, that is, heading to the pool holding Maggot, when I came across the maid.
Those of you who haven’t had a maid in the last ten years or so maybe don’t know how the employee-employer relationship works these days. Your house is basically somewhere for the maid to hang out during the day. Its why they invented DSTV. One day I tried to cancel my DSTV but the maid got a labour court order for me to reinstate it.
Maids are also clever these days. She sees me carrying the puppy and immediately she knows what’s going on. So she says, “I see you found my dog. Since this is my officially designated workplace you are obliged by article 53, section 24 to ensure its welfare.”
So I had to keep the dog. Alive.
I soon began the human-dog bonding process with Maggot. I have to say, this part of dog care wasn’t too bad. Actually quite fun. You have to play with your dog. I would pull his ears and tail and stick my fingers in his eyes. Tie rocks to his feet and watch him try to walk. Give him swimming lessons by throwing him in the pool. I even taught him to swim underwater.
But unfortunately, and despite the cheapest food I could get at the 24 hr shop, Maggot started growing. And for some reason the part that grew first was the teeth. I soon discovered what he wanted them for. At at first I didn’t know what he wanted them for, but then I found out. Apparently I look like a giant steak. Or a giant rawhide chew. Because as soon as those teeth appeared, the only thing he wanted to bite was me.
I complained to the maid about her dog. I showed her the bite marks. But it turns out that in terms of governing legislation, HOS in the workplace is the employers responsibility. She said she’d let this lapse go without taking action. I thanked her and got back to work on the ironing. She had been complaining recently I hadn’t been doing her collars properly.
Now I realized Maggot had issues so I looked on the internet, and I diagnosed him with recessive-aggressive syndrome. Quite common in puppies who didn’t have fathers. They transfer their latent hatred to someone else, in this case, me. A classic case. So I decided to apply normative behavioural therapy.
So I went and bought the dog a soft toy which looked a bit like me. I called it Ian, hoping I could deflect Maggots hatred of me to it. It worked. As soon as Maggot got hold of Ian, in a fit of fury he ripped him to shreds. After shredding Ian, Maggot slowly and deliberately, chewed and ate all the bits. I retreated to my bed and watched in horror. I realized the problem might be bigger than I had thought. I decided to seek professional help.
When I saw the vet, I realized I’d come to the right place. She reminded me of another professional I visit frequently. She took is to a back room for 20 minutes or so, then demanded a large wad of cash for her services. As I drove home, strangely I felt very satisfied.
As time went by, we got into some kind of acceptable co-habitation arrangement. If I took Maggot for a walk everyday, he didn’t chew my porn DVDs. If I didn’t pull his ears, he didn’t pull the maids clothes off the washing line. If I only bought him the most expensive dog food, he allowed me to visit the vet now and then.
A dog is a commitment. If it were your family you’d disown them. If it were your goldfish you’d throw him in a nearby river. If it were your girlfriend you’d shoot her while she’s in the toilet. But there’s no way to get rid of a dog. It’s natures forced therapy. And it works.
This happened to me. Nature recognised what my parents had done to me and that I needed help. So I arrived one day from work to this puppy thing in my house. It looked like a maggot, fat and short, with 4 little sticks for legs and two floppy ears.
All it could do was waddle around and squeak. So I thought I would swing by the swimming pool, drown it, then, on my way to the kitchen drop it in the bin, then grab a beer and watch my favourite blue movie. I was busy with step 1 of this plan, that is, heading to the pool holding Maggot, when I came across the maid.
Those of you who haven’t had a maid in the last ten years or so maybe don’t know how the employee-employer relationship works these days. Your house is basically somewhere for the maid to hang out during the day. Its why they invented DSTV. One day I tried to cancel my DSTV but the maid got a labour court order for me to reinstate it.
Maids are also clever these days. She sees me carrying the puppy and immediately she knows what’s going on. So she says, “I see you found my dog. Since this is my officially designated workplace you are obliged by article 53, section 24 to ensure its welfare.”
So I had to keep the dog. Alive.
I soon began the human-dog bonding process with Maggot. I have to say, this part of dog care wasn’t too bad. Actually quite fun. You have to play with your dog. I would pull his ears and tail and stick my fingers in his eyes. Tie rocks to his feet and watch him try to walk. Give him swimming lessons by throwing him in the pool. I even taught him to swim underwater.
But unfortunately, and despite the cheapest food I could get at the 24 hr shop, Maggot started growing. And for some reason the part that grew first was the teeth. I soon discovered what he wanted them for. At at first I didn’t know what he wanted them for, but then I found out. Apparently I look like a giant steak. Or a giant rawhide chew. Because as soon as those teeth appeared, the only thing he wanted to bite was me.
I complained to the maid about her dog. I showed her the bite marks. But it turns out that in terms of governing legislation, HOS in the workplace is the employers responsibility. She said she’d let this lapse go without taking action. I thanked her and got back to work on the ironing. She had been complaining recently I hadn’t been doing her collars properly.
Now I realized Maggot had issues so I looked on the internet, and I diagnosed him with recessive-aggressive syndrome. Quite common in puppies who didn’t have fathers. They transfer their latent hatred to someone else, in this case, me. A classic case. So I decided to apply normative behavioural therapy.
So I went and bought the dog a soft toy which looked a bit like me. I called it Ian, hoping I could deflect Maggots hatred of me to it. It worked. As soon as Maggot got hold of Ian, in a fit of fury he ripped him to shreds. After shredding Ian, Maggot slowly and deliberately, chewed and ate all the bits. I retreated to my bed and watched in horror. I realized the problem might be bigger than I had thought. I decided to seek professional help.
When I saw the vet, I realized I’d come to the right place. She reminded me of another professional I visit frequently. She took is to a back room for 20 minutes or so, then demanded a large wad of cash for her services. As I drove home, strangely I felt very satisfied.
As time went by, we got into some kind of acceptable co-habitation arrangement. If I took Maggot for a walk everyday, he didn’t chew my porn DVDs. If I didn’t pull his ears, he didn’t pull the maids clothes off the washing line. If I only bought him the most expensive dog food, he allowed me to visit the vet now and then.
A dog is a commitment. If it were your family you’d disown them. If it were your goldfish you’d throw him in a nearby river. If it were your girlfriend you’d shoot her while she’s in the toilet. But there’s no way to get rid of a dog. It’s natures forced therapy. And it works.
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