Psycho Therapy Sucks; Mooner Gets Community Services

 

So. The winds have calmed and temperatures cooled somewhat, and firefighters have managed to get the Central Texas wildfires under control, somewhat. Police are searching for numerous suspected arsonists and I hope the authorities catch them before our angry citizenry.

We’re normally a peaceful bunch, but “Don’t Mess With Texas” isn’t just an advertising slogan. It’s how we roll.

Except, of course, for our governor and right-wing Christian dominated legislature. Voters have seemed to lack the ability to connect the dots between our state’s eroding environmental qualities and the brain-dead fuckball, Rick Perry. Since Perry became our governor, we have become a top-two state in the air pollution category and we are soon to be the home of the largest nuclear waste dump ever.

But it’s cool this morning and I’m in a pretty decent mood. Brandon, from over to My Own Private Idaho, is designing a second set of anti Rick Perry merchandise. Less offensive to the greater masses, this new slogan should get a better grip on a marketing surge and gain better sales traction. The products should be ready any day now.

Speaking of the fires, we were headed to our psycho therapy session yesterday (I’m down to one per day since I’m doing so well), and I say “our psycho therapy session” because my little dog and cat are attending with me. Since Honor the cat is trade bait for the little puppy, Squirt, in the deal I made months ago, Dr. Sam I. Am-Johnson wants to monitor our progress. My long-time dog, translator and business partner, Dixie, is older and retiring.

At least she’s tired of me and has chosen to spend her golden years with Streaker Jones where she can concentrate on her love of spoors. Streaker Jones is a mushroom grower and Dixie is now his assistant. I’m happy for both of them and miss Dixie less each day. She and I have been through quite a lot together and she has been the most faithful of dogs. I’m more than happy to give her her freedom.

Anyway, the deal with Dr. Sam is that I can have the good doctor’s dog, Squirt, as my new puppy and translator just as soon as I find and train a replacement kitty to give to Sammy. Honor the cat is the self-selected nominee in the cat category. Dixie has completed the Squirt’s language training so she’s already assumed most of Dixie’s duties for me. As far as training the cat, other than teaching her to pee in the sink, whatthefuck sort of training can you give a cat?

I mean really, what can you teach a cat if it doesn’t CHOOSE to fucking learn? Many of the things I want to train her to do she already does. She has good table manners, she speaks her mind and she doesn’t take crap from anybody. She came pre-programmed with a fierce family loyalty, she loves Carta Blanca beer and fishing has become her favorite non-sleeping activity.

Honor the cat would rather fish than hunt, and she LOVES to hunt.

“OK, everybody,” I told the little cat and dog when we parked the GTO at Sammie’s office. “Please be on your best behavior. If Dr. Sam I. Am-Johnson doesn’t sense that I have a good handle on you two I’ll be getting extra assignments and homework, and you’ll be getting a grumpy master.”

We went inside and sat in the waiting room. When the light next to her door turned from red to green, I said, “Come on kiddies, it’s show time.”

Honor the cat led us inside Sam’s office , and before I had a full step inside, she was hissing and spitting like a maniac. “Tell your cat to zip it, Mooner. This little bundle can’t handle the stress.”

“This little bundle” was a small white dog that cowered at my psycho therapist’s feet. For those of you new to these pages, separating the psycho from their therapy is my favorite mental health joke.

“His name is Pi, like Pi-r-squared. He’s a rescue dog who has spent his first year of life locked in a kennel, and he is a tad bit skiddish. He’s your new assignment. All three of you are getting too big for your britches and you need to perform a little community service.”

“Bitch.” I might have mumbled.

“Speak up, Mooner, and he’s a boy. He’s from an Oklahoma puppy mill that got shut down. Call Marilyn Nichols at Happy Puppy Tutoring and get her to help you get him adjusted to a new life with people.”

When I gave her my best “are-you-fucking-kidding-me?” look, my therapist and first ex-wife stared me down. “Look, Mooner. This is a very sweet dog who has been traumatized. Let Marilyn work her submissive magic on him. I want all three of you to take part in his readjustments.”

“Ugh,” was the best I could do at the time. I loaded the now three pets into the GTO—squirt and Honor in their harnesses and Pi in his crate. I called Marilyn on the way back to the ranch and set an appointment for later today. I know she can work wonders, but this little guy is seriously fucked up.

Which gives me an idea. Over to Shoal Creek Loony Bin they use electro-shock therapies on the most severe cases of anti-social behavior. Maybe I can turn-down the volts and amps on a stunner gun and work a little magic here with Pi. Hell, maybe I can develop something useful and Marilyn can market it for me.

But the first thing we’re doing is renaming the little shitball. I’m out in the back lawn area this morning trying to get the little rascal to do his business and I’m saying, “Come on Pi, pee. Come on, pee, Pi. Pee, Pi.”

That shit is not going to work when we start our sink training. He needs a new name. Manana, y’all.

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5 Responses to “Psycho Therapy Sucks; Mooner Gets Community Services”

  1. bj says:

    Yer therapist …. is also ….. yer ex-wife? Whew! Good Luck with THAT! Is yer lil’ rescue dog high strung and bug eyed? How ’bout Barney? You know …. ALL the Fife’s are high strung ….

  2. chrisinphx says:

    Didn’t that jizball Rick Perry cut most of the funding to the volunteer fire depts which also make up the majority of the fire depts in Texas?

  3. admin says:

    BJ. Yep, the old double whamy. After thirty years of sessions I’m immune to the pain. Barney might be appropriate for the bug-eyed little shit, but I like him.

    Chris. That’s right. Most of Texas is big, open spaces with sparce populations. Wait till the flu season hits. He made similar cuts–not quite so deep but still needed stitches–to our state health care institutions. Especially with nursing homes and elder care.

    Rick Perry is a heartless evil braindead mother fucker, to put it mildly.

  4. It just struck me as I was reading the comments – you should actually name the little dog “BJ.” Just to fuck with Dr. Sam I am’s Freudian sensibilities. snicker snicker snicker

  5. admin says:

    Reck. This is but one of the many reasons I love you. It’s a great name but so far, unfitting to the cute little shitbird. Stay tuned for more.

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