“Hello, sir. We are Jehovah’s witnesses.”
Shit! It’s worse than I thought!
They continued. “We’d like to tell you all abo—”
“No,” I interjected.
“But, just a moment to—”
“Please, sir, for your salva—”
“Maybe if we could jus—”
“No. No. No. No! No! NO! NO! NO! NO!” I was steadily losing control as I began foaming at the mouth. They took a step back as my mouth began reciting evil incantations against my will. Spit was flying everywhere and burning bottomless holes in the earth. It wasn’t long before they retreated, but not before hurling a bushel of pamphlets at me.
Luckily, the cool air snapped me out of my trance, and I regained focus as I grabbed a handful of the pamphlets. My eyes glided over the header. Find God in your Pet. It was a curious pamphlet, but I had unfortunately thrown them all away by accident before getting a change to delve into the contents.
Moments later, after weeping over the poignant season finale of 16 and Pregnant, my dog strolled in the room. It may have been the emotional, fragile state I was in or the header of the aforementioned pamphlet, but I was immediately struck with an eagerness to find God in by gentle dog, Pogo.
Actual picture. Not photoshopped at all.
I lifted him off the ground and stared into his eyes, but an unexpected sneeze shot dog boogers all over my face. I drowned out my anger and stuck in a dark corner and continued to study my dog. I flipped him upside-down and leftside-right, but there was absolutely nothing God-like about this stupid animal. The only thing miraculous about him was the infinite amount of fur on his body. I’ve pulled fur from his coat that’s taken up more mass than his body, and still there were loose fur patches all over him. I suppose that’s somewhat God-like, but I needed more.
I placed him down and studied his movements. He wearily made his way to the couch and flopped down on one of the cushions. I know it is hard being a dog, but he sure sleeps a lot. He is one lazy animal. Like a slo... like… a sloth. Sloth. One of the Seven Deadly Sins! How can a creature be God-like if he’s guilty of one of the Cardinal Sins? So, I thought about it further. I ran through the rest of the list.
Wrath. He is undoubtedly guilty of this sin. He’s drawn blood from me on numerous occasions. Sure I may have riled him up a bit, but he should learn to suppress his anger like me and unleash it on the internet.
Greed. I’ve spent hundreds of dollars on him, yet he still requires more. More food, more water, more toys, more cookies, more designer sunglasses. It’s no question that he’s guilty of this sin.
Pride. I can tell just by the way he walks that he’s full of pride. He walks as if he’s in the Westminster Dog Show, like there’s a camera on him at all times. Plus, when I call him over so I can pet him, he looks at me, scoffs, and walks to the next room. Guilty as charged!
Lust. He’s humped the legs of at least a county’s worth of men and women. I’m embarrassed to admit that he’s my dog at times, what with all the hump attacks and all.
Envy. If competing for attention was an Olympic event, he’d be the first athlete to win gold, silver, and bronze all in the same event. He’s such an envious whore.
Gluttony. He’s a dog.
So, that just about solved it. I had concluded that my dog was a spawn sent from the underworld.
I didn’t waste any time. I immediately started carving his dog food into mini crucifixes and lacing his water with holy water and concentrated silver. This lasted for a good months with no significant results aside from him shitting mercury.
With all the failed attempts to rid my dog from a supposed demon, I never once stopped to think that perhaps my dog is Satan incarnate.
That is how I concluded that my dog is the devil.