My dog keeps shaking his head


My dog keeps shaking his head. He wants a shower. He doesn’t like my dirty hands. I tell him to stop shaking his head, but he keeps on.

He’s been out all night and now he wants a shower.

It’s only 6:30 in the morning and he doesn’t stop. I can’t let him have one. He’s too old to wake up this early and not able to get wet and clean.

We went to the park last night to celebrate my 50th birthday. My husband couldn’t make it. He didn’t get home till after midnight.

It rained. I had to leave the party at the end of the night and go home and get in the shower. He left before I got out of the shower.

I’m not looking forward to this morning. I’m tired and I’ve got a long day ahead of me. I hate cleaning and I need to do some laundry.

He needs to take a shower. I can’t let him wet, because he’ll take a bath and I don’t want him to get all wet and smell like doggie.

He can’t stay out all night. He needs to go back to his bed. He can’t be out all night and not be able to go back to his bed.

But my dog is standing there and he can’t move, so I have to pick him up. I can’t let him shake his head and keep moving.

He should have a shower. But he won’t be a good boy and take a shower. He’ll want me to hold him and tell him that he’s a good dog and that it’s going to be okay.

He wants to shake his head to stop me from picking him up. I wish he would stop shaking his head. I wish he wouldn’t shake his head and keep making me pick him up. I don’t want to pick him up. I want to get back to the house and take a shower.

And there he is. He looks like he’s been up for a long time. He doesn’t look happy.

I don’t want him to have a bath. I don’t want to give him water. I don’t want to have to hold him. I don’t want to put the shower on.

I want to go to my bed. I want to take a shower. I don’t want to do any of this. But I have to.

But I don’t want to shower or feed him or hold him. I can’t just go and put him on the floor. I can’t pick him up.

I can’t get back to my bed. The dog is not a good boy. I shouldn’t be picking him up. He’s just not a good boy.

But I am a good dog mom. So I’m going to hold him.

I’m going to pick him up. I’m going to put my hands on his head. I’m going to lean down and pick him up and walk him into the bathroom and put him on the tub. I’m going to hold him.

But he won’t let me hold him. He doesn’t want to go into the tub. And if he won’t, he won’t. I won’t put him in.

He wants to come to the bed. And the food. The water. And that’s what he wants. So I give it to him. I give him his food and I give him his water and I let him stay on my bed for a little bit.

And then he wants to come back to the bathtub. And I take him there.

I put him down. I lean down and pick him up and I let him get wet. He gets all wet. But I’m not worried about it. He can’t stay dry.

I make him sit in the bathtub and he gets all wet and when he’s all wet I give him a little bit of soap and I put it on his belly and his head and his ears. He’s all wrinkled up. I can’t see his eyes anymore.

I start to get him out of the tub and he’s all wet and he’s crying and he’s just a little baby and I know it’s going to hurt him.

I think of the bath as more of a punishment. It’s not about cleaning him up, it’s about making him hurt. It’s about breaking him.

So I carry him into the bedroom and I put him in the sink. I turn off the tap and hold him under it and I see his face wrinkled up and his face is wet but he’s not getting wet anymore.

And he’s screaming. He’s trying to get out of the sink. But he’s tied up. So I sit on the toilet. And he’s in the sink and I’m sitting on the toilet and he’s in the sink and he’s screaming.

He’s a little baby and he’s so helpless. He’s just a little baby and he’s trying to get out of the sink and he’s screaming and he’s crying.

And I say, “You’re going to kill your mother. You’re going to kill your sister.”

And I want to kill myself.

I was not thinking. I was not thinking. I was not thinking.

I sit there until he stops crying. And I start to unbutton my shirt and I start to unbutton my pants. I want him to look at me and I want to be in front of him. So I want him to see me. I want him to know it’s me.

So I start to get undressed.

And I go over to him. And I pick him up and I lay him on the bed and I start to put my clothes back on. And I go back out.

And then they start to pull their clothes off. Then they fall back on the bed. I think they started to cuddle. It’s so nice.

Then I start to look around the room and I see the window, and it’s a huge, big beautiful window. It looks like you can see the ocean.

And I run over to the window and I open it.

It’s the day they brought me over from San Francisco. It’s the day of my first rape. It’s the same thing that happened to me when I got raped in the hospital in San Francisco. I remember how it was. I was not thinking, I was not thinking.

And I’m at the window. And I have this beautiful view of the ocean. And I look over.

I see the ocean.

And


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