Extreme Pet Owners (EPO)

Do you like puppies? Maybe a cute kitten? Who wouldn’t, baby animals are adorable, and many grow up to be great pets and loyal companions. They can be a great addition to a family or become a friend to a lonely single. Many have great personalities and make us laugh; others are guardians or helpers. Pets are great.

But what about their owners? Have you ever met an EPO (Extreme Pet Owner)? Who are the EPOs? These are people that constantly tell you amusing anecdotes about their animals regardless of whether or not you want to hear about how little Petie chased a squirrel at the park and knocked over someone’s grandmother. Princess (the 140 pound Rottweiler that makes Cujo seem nice) somehow got out of the yard again and ate the tires off of Mr. Johnson’s truck. Well actually, that would be kind of a funny story, but more often than not, the story is more likely about how the dog peed on the vet or barfed something interesting up on the rug. It’s not like an occasional story is annoying by itself, but these tards like to give you daily updates, as if you and Fluffy are dear old friends. I don’t want to hear about your fucking barfing bichon or your pissing poodle.

Then there are the sympathy pleas. “Snuggles has lung cancer and I’m starting an office collection to save him.” “Really, it will only cost $5000 for kitty cat radiation treatment; can I give you a check made out to fuck off?” I’m a heartless bastard maybe, but I live in a country where there are children that go to bed hungry and people sleeping in boxes that I think could probably use the money a little bit more than your fur-ball that induces my own health problems every time I come within twenty feet of it.

By the way, one in three people are allergic to cats. Yet people still think it’s cool to own these walking death dealers and invite you to their homes where you will enjoy a fun filled evening of sneezing, blowing your nose, rubbing your eyes raw, and choking. One more note on cat allergy sufferers: Benadryl, etc. doesn’t work for all of us in answer to your, “Can’t you just take a Benadryl or something?” But really, I do enjoy jacking myself with a syringe of epinephrine just so I can look at a few more snapshots of Mr. Zippers wearing his bee costume. Don’t get me wrong, I love cats…properly barbecued.

They’re almost as adorable as big slobbery dogs that think that everyone wants to tango with them. “Oh yeah, I just love it when your bull mastiff jumps up on my lap and damn near takes my face off one slobbery lick at a time.” The only thing grosser is watching the dog lick all over the owner’s mouth giving it ‘kisses.’ Yuck. It’s always fun too, when Bowser plants his snout right up your ass because he ‘needs to check you out.’ What exactly is this son-of-a-bitch checking out? I’m pretty sure he can now give a thorough report on my last three meals after snout-fucking me.

The people that show up at your home with their pet. What the fuck is that all about? They somehow don’t realize how rude and unacceptable that is. Then assume you play the gracious host; the next day they laugh off their team of pitbulls that just dug up your sprinkler system and ate your garden gnome. Or, they can’t go on vacation, because they don’t want to leave the pet at a kennel or with strangers. Cuckoo cuckoo…

The pet owners that don’t keep their homes clean. Cat hair all over everything. That wonderful aroma of cat piss soaking into the floorboards. Shredded remains of slaughtered stuffed animals that Barksley had his way with. The animal itself leaves a lot to be desired. Smelly and greasy, it’s pelt is like a transients soiled trousers.

Back to extreme owner behavior though. My dog (believe it or not, I have a pet) was invited by an EPO to attend a sleep over for her dog’s birthday. That’s some buck wild crazy shit right there. But then I overheard a woman on the bus talking about the birthday party that she had recently held for her cats, complete with costumes and cake.

by: Poop

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~ by zoopandpoop on February 5, 2010.

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