monster sarcasm rally

Before the Monster House, I lived in a place we called the Dog House. I loved the house. I loved the dogs. The neighbourhood was the coolest one in all of Toronto. We had a huge yard with raspberry bushes and lots of trees. I had great roommates.

Why would I ever leave such a place, you may well ask.

Very simple... I had one really good reason for leaving. His name was Nevermind Drunken Former Roommate.

DFR sometimes loved me, sometimes hated me. Sometimes he put me on a pedestal so high, my head was in the clouds. Other times he ground me into the dirt. He would phone me and drunkenly profess his undying love. He would write me lengthy letters, which he would later admit were designed to provoke my wrath. He would do kind, helpful and thoughtful things for me. He cut all the cords off my lamps. His attitude towards me swung to both ends of the spectrum on a daily basis without ever passing through indifferent.

He also liked to tell people that we had a relationship. In fact, I heard recently that he still tells people about me, his ex-girlfriend.

For the record, I am no such thing. I assure you, I never had any sort of thing with him. The closest physical contact we had went like this... I was sitting on the couch. He got up from his chair sat down next to me and tried to hug me. I screamed, 'Get off me! Don't touch me! Don't you ever touch me!', while jumping up and scrambling across the room.

One thing, though, was undeniable. He loved Beandog. Beandog loved him. They had a genuine bond. Only one thing interrupted this. Sometimes when DFR was drunk (read: drunker than normal), he would try to wrestle with Beandog. Don't get me wrong, Beandog loves to play and wrestle, but not with people who are drunk. When super-uber drunk DFR tried to wrestle with him, Beandog would bite him.

DFR would shout at Beandog. DFR would also complain loudly to me that my dog needed to be trained better. No, I thought, you do. If you tried that crap with me, I'd have punched you or kicked you.

When I moved out of that house, I declared that my new house would be alcoholic-free. I have nothing against alcohol, but I don't want to put up with the antics of a chronic alcoholic.

I seem to have misjudged Shane. The first time I met him, he seemed like a nice, intelligent, easy-to-get-along-with guy. And he is. But he's also an alcoholic. Last week I mentioned an incident that took place. He was drunk (of course) and he started taunting my dog. My dog bit him. Because he's a stupid git, he declared that he had to get a tetanus shot.

The doctor was required to report the incident to Toronto Public Health. I was required to produce proof that Beandog had all his rabies shots. Now a woman from TPH is coming to my house to inspect Beandog and verify that he isn't dangerous.

TPH reported the incident to Toronto Animal Control. Now TAC is issuing a Cautionary Warning against Beandog and sending a representative to my house this afternoon to inspect him.

Moral of the story: If you are a drunk and if you taunt my dog, he will bite you. Conversely, if you are not a drunk and if you do not taunt my dog, he will not bite you.

Note to self: Start asking potential roommates for proof of non-alcoholic status.