Payback

Hey, remember that time Ripken chewed the legs off our couch when we left alone for 20 minutes? Or that first Christmas with the in-laws and he pulled the entire roast off the counter and ran through the house with it? Or when he drug wet, dripping paint stirrer across the brand new wood floor? Oh, I know -- a oldie but a goodie -- the time he chewed all the stitched out of his arm pit because he had to have a mole removed. A MOLE? So we had to pay for him to be stitched up TWICE??? Remember. That?


Then there was monsoon season a couple of years ago and Ripken decided he could not do us the favor by taking a piss in the yard so he FLOODED our dining room because that totally seemed like a better idea than getting his feet wet. Oh, and when he finally did go out, it wasn't to pooh. No, he did that later, also in the dining room. He went out and played in the mud. Then came inside traumatised. No, don't recall it? Here, let me help you remember.


Yeah, well that's what I'm showing the word this next picture of you. Because a little shame never hurt anyone. Stay off my bed, fucker. And shit in the yard.