It’s Confession Thursday, but I lost count of which one.

Ho, hum.  Confession Thursday has reared its ugly head.  I know that you’ve all got your confessions ready to go.  I hereby grant a reprieve from confessing anything more to those of you who shared their terrible mothering stories in an effort to lift my mood.  It’s not working, but thanks anyway.  Ha!  Seriously, I still feel terrible about my little baby girl (Tween C) standing out in the dark parking lot, crying and scared and not knowing what in the world to do about it.  But I digress. 

Okay, here goes it:

It’s very liberating to realize the extent of the things to which I may confess, since Zohrhubby (as has been established) does not read this blog.  It’s not improper for me to post things about him, since he was given the opportunity to read it, gave it a good once-over look, and ignored it from then on.  This confession is a wrong committed against him (if you are being particular) and the animal kingdom.

About 16 years ago, when we had only one 9 or 10 month old kid, we also owned a dog named Max.  Max was a short haired dachsund.  He was, in my opinion, possessed by some demon and was the bain (bane?) of my existence.  He would eat shoes, pantyhose (in those days, people still word pantyhose), baby toys, bottles, garbage, and even, on occasion, his own poop.  I’m telling you, this dog was evil.  I hated him.  Zohrhubby, on the other hand, adored him.  I spent all my time cleaning up the garbage-filled crap in his wake (literally). 

I came home from a long day at work one evening and Zohrhubby was at work.  We locked Max up in the kitchen in our apartment while we were gone, for obvious reasons.  That same morning, I had emptied the diaper pail into the main garbage can, which was closed up in a closet in the kitchen.  The door from the rear of the apartment parking area entered into our kitchen.  I stepped inside, carrying my purse, a diaper bag, and then-Baby E in his carseat, and stepped directly into the middle of a warzone.  Evil Max had figured out how to “tap” the closet door just so, and opened the door, and had proceeded to empty the entire contents of the garbage can (nearly 50% dirty diapers) and then shred it all into tiny pieces.  There were hunks of baby poop and the smell of sulfar all over the room.  I went absolutely berserk.  This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

I went into the bedroom, set down all of my things (and my kid) and came back into the kitchen with a broom in my hand.  I began chasing the dog around the tiny kitchen, swatting and cursing and making a general ass out of myself.  Bits and shards of garbage and shredded diapers filled the air in the ruckus.  I opened the screen door and ordered the dog outside, who didn’t hesitate to escape my fury.  I hollered as he tucked his tail and headed out of my sight that he was to “NEVER COME BACK, YOU STUPID F**KING DOG!”

I spent the next hour cleaning the mess.  I cursed and slammed things around the entire time. 

Several hours later, at near dusk, Zohrhubby returned from work.  It was late fall, and the forecast for that evening called for near freezing temps, the coldest so far that season. 

Zohrhubby noticed immediately that Max was not around.  “Where’s Max?”

“Um, I don’t know, I haven’t seen him.” I hadn’t mentioned a word about the kitchen.  My disdain for that dog was already too pronounced.  Any more information from me would seal my fate because I secretely wished that the dog would heed my warning, and never come back.

Zohrhubby spent the next 2 hours wandering around our block, calling out, even in the darkness.  “MAAAAAXXXXX!”

I sat inside and grinned.  The dog was gone forever.

To this day, Zohrhubby accuses me of driving off and dumping that dog somewhere.  I have never admitted the truth, but honestly can deny having done that. 



About zohrbak

Zohrbak is an old email username I had a while's a made-up twist on two characters from Spaceghost. Zorak and Brak. I'm a geek. I am a married, working mother of 4 children, ages 4-15. I also have interests outside of my children, but I can never remember what they are.
This entry was posted in Confession Thursday, Humor and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

14 Responses to It’s Confession Thursday, but I lost count of which one.

  1. Aimee says:

    I love dogs, and I REMEMBER THAT NASTY ASS DOG. He was horrible. I remember coming to your apartment and the dog having peed and pooped in your kitchen. I have always thought they were nearly the UGLIEST breed of dog on the planet, not to mention the leg-humping-est breed ever. I have never met a dachsund that i liked. Seriously. My ex’s grandparents raised them, and I am still disturbed by the images in my brain of holidays at their house where everyones leg got romanced by the multitude of dogs running around. Gross. I also remember a friends weiner dog who used to hump her comforter…completing the act,if you know what I mean, ON HER BED! OMG! willies. Then there was your lovely dog, max, who shit in your kitchen all the time. So, no weiner dogs for me. Gross.

    I did like the cool striped couch and chair you had at that apartment though.

  2. YaYa says:

    I had just moved to Alexandria and had never seen a traffic circle. I accidentally rear-ended a lady in her car. I couldn’t understand why the heck she didn’t go, there were no cars coming. Apparently, she didn’t know what a traffic circle was either, b/c when she got out of her car she could not speak English. She started jibbering in some other language of chinese, japanese, tiwanese, I don’t know… So I hurried up and wrote down my incorrect license plate number and I completely misspelled my name and phone number and then drove off. It’s not my fault she couldn’t speak english! If your going to live here then you need to able to properly communicate with me!!

    • zohrbak says:

      I know that I said that rule was that no one could judge you on Thursdays, YaYa, but try to keep this in perspective. As your attorney (or the closest thing you have for one) I must advise you not to share any more confessions that could result in your arrest and/or conviction in any court of law. I mean, if you are thinking that my groundrules for this blog could somehow be the basis for your defense, you better re-think that!

  3. quaid says:

    First of all, I’m appalled that you let a poor defenseless dog escape to its imminent death. Shame on you. But I forgive you (I just hope Jesus does, too.)

    Okay, my turn:
    Whenever I’m in a relationship, I long to be alone. I crave solitude. I get so annoyed and tired of the person I’m with. I just want to run away and escape.

    Whenever I’m single, I enjoy the freedom for awhile, then crave companionship and love and fuzzy wuzzy feelings and cuddling up with a nice boy on a cold night…and I sometimes find myself deathly afraid of growing old alone.

    And therein lies my psychosis. As of late, I find myself at a crossroads. After almost 7 years, my boyfriend and I have decided amicably and mutually that we make better friends than boyfriends. Rather than continue lying to ourselves and others that we’re happy and fulfilled as a couple, we’ve decided to end our relationship and just be friends (and for now, roommates). I know we will always be friends–he’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, and I owe him a huge debt of gratitude for introducing me to so many people and good times when I moved to NYC 8 years ago. We love each other dearly, and I believe that our relationship will benefit from our decision to redefine it.

    That said, I’m loving the single life (5 days so far!), but I’m also starting to have a few “Oh shit, what have I done” moments here and there. This just goes to prove one of life’s great truths: We’re all fucked up when it comes to relationships!

    P.S. I’m not going to hold that dog thing against you, because I used to beat my sister’s demon cat when he used to scared the bejeezus out of me at midnight while I was watching TV. He died a few years ago, and inside I was all smiles.

    • zohrbak says:

      You couldn’t hold the dog thing against me even if you wanted to. It’s Thursday. You can’t judge me on Thursday!

      And I’m certainly in agreement with your epiphany at the end. We are all, most certainly, effed up. Just when you think you’ve met someone who isn’t, they prove you wrong.

      • quaid says:

        Right, forgot about no-judge Thursday. I hope you’ll remember my disdain for your actions tomorrow morning, then.

      • zohrbak says:

        I am making a note right now to remind myself in the morning to feel shame. I’m gonna go ahead and pencil that to my dayrunner for “8:15 – 8:20”. There.

  4. Ryan says:

    when I was about 10, I climbed up on the kitchen countertop to get into one of the higher cabinets next to the stove. While up there, I noticed an oily, dusty film had collected on the topside of the range hood, you know, the little metal roof over the stove that even a full grown adult isn’t tall enough to see above? I dragged my finger through the gook, leaving a long distinct trace behind. I immediately did what any 10 year old boy would do, spelled the word F**K in the stuff. I got down and forgot about it. You would think that it would take years for anybody to notice, but I think it was that night my parents sat us down and asked me and my brother “did one of yall write “something” on the stove? Of course, my brother was like “huh, no, can I go play now?” I denied it too, still have never told mom. They just figured it was one of those older kids that came over. HA!

    • YaYa says:

      OMG – this is freakin’ hilarious!!

    • zohrbak says:

      Hmmm. I bet my mom got a call from your mom about that. And then my mom was like, “what are you asking me, do you think litte Zohrbak did that?” and your mom was like, “Uh, no.” And then my mom told my dad and then they had to consider whether or not i would write anything like that on anyone else’s stove hood.

      Me and my 8 year old bestie went to “town” (Opelousas) with Zohrmom, Zohrsis and Zohrsis’s bff one day, and me and Zohrbestie went in the bathroom and wrote all over the mirrors and walls with 8 year old lipstick about how we loved so and so, and such and such was a you know what, etc., etc., and signed our names to the grafitti. When we came out of the bathroom, Zohrsis and her bff went in, and they went and got mama and showed her. Me and Zohrbestie were made to go tell the manager of the store what we did, and we had to get a bucket and some towels and clean up our mess. So, if this incident was before your incident, surely she knew I’d learned my lesson and didn’t write that on your range hood. And then sign my name. roflmao

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s