crabby encroachment.

how would YOU take it if somebody gave you
a sequentially conflicting pair of statements?
like,
specifically,
if first they said:
'the only way to have a great dog is to bring him everywhere with you.';
and then immediately followed that with:
'i don't want you to bring your dog here with you.'
what would you think?
admittedly,
i'm a pessimistic cynical skeptic,
as a a result of one lifetime-to-date of doo-doo buttery disappointments
all lined up like sh!t-salad dominoes, and falling down before the final set up is finished.
awwwwwww.
that said,
my disposition colored the conversation with skidmarks of syllabic sepsis,
and i naturally took the gist of it to mean that this individual wishes for me
to have a not-great dog.
logically,
i believe that is a conclusion that makes linear sense.
but,
if we're all being honest with each other,
which is a thing, i believe in-
i discredit any use of logic in this instance,
and instead,
i believe it's emotionally that this person wishes for me to have a not-great dog.
y'know?
as in, for personal reasons, my failure would bring them happiness.
damn.
that's sort of a hard style.
i mean, i get it.
i'm guilty of it, too, sometimes;
or a lot of the time;
or most of the time, even.
but,
crabtree doesn't bother anybody.
(except, possibly this disapprover, i s'pose)
of course,
we're learning how to be be good, together.
in fact,
the strictly regimented schedule we've kept for the past three weeks
has got his little heinie doing what it needs to out of doors, reliably,
whenever i'm in charge of his care and training,
which just so happens to be always, anyway.
i'm just sayin', neighbors,
look at the faces of these two happy chappies:

c'mon!
no harm, no foul, no problems;
just two worthy warrior poets,
with big dumb heads, weird eyes, and recalcitrant dispositions,
spanning time and enriching lives in our own respective unique ways.
here's the thing-
he needs certain helpful assistance throughout this essential, imprintable,
positivity-reinforcing training period in his little life;
and i need to be the one that gives it to him.
he's my dude, and he needs to take sh!ts and stuff like that,
because his little body can only hold 'em for so long.
i'm not about to horrify his whole scene with crate-poops
and bladder-bursting urine soaked sheets or whatever.
that's not very cool, nor very nice,
and certainly not the right way to socialize and support a new little fella
with the routines and regimens that he requires.
word up.
i'm over here trying to create something expert out of a blank slate.
it isn't easy, but what the F* ever is?
uh-huh.
***********
alligator-headed shark-bullet blanco barbarian business isn't all stress,
and clandestine crate-training at the tattoo-studio.
nope.
some of it is still about playing.
yep.
playing is the key to making your dog like you.
turns out,
just making him sit down for cookies isn't going to win any real affection,
but a big ol' batch of toys being tossed and tugged and thrown around has got the
attention-attachment activation that my little crab-man craves.
to that end,
i've upgraded my alligator assortment for maximum enjoyment.
check the exxxtra-gatory-type teleport:

wooooooo!
when i find 'em, i get 'em,
and then we play with 'em.
there are a lot of them out there,
and my completionist obsessive acquisitional personality LOVES that.
crabby might be just as happy with turtles, plain old rectangles of fabric,
heck,
he seems pretty psyched to try and eat his cutesy stuffed bed, actually.
but,
this is my house,
and i'm decreeing that albiegators are the toy of choice,
followed by crustaceans and cartilaginous predatory ocean-dwellers.
boom.
there it is.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is a busier place with this beast within it's walls,
and that's making everything more complicated.
that's the way i like it.
it's all really happening,
and there's much less wasted time for my trouble;
never quiet, never soft.....