I was sitting at my computer desk one evening, leafing through a particularly “sexy” photo album on generic social networking site #1. I’d been having a fine old time after a pretty uneventful day so far - when I heard a peculiar sound over my headphones. I promptly remove them and find myself looking to my dog for the source of the noise.

I had no idea that my dog had been there, nor did I know how long he had been there. I never noticed him enter the room and now all of a sudden my freaky ass dog is staring me down with a single slice of bread in his mouth whilst having some kind of mental breakdown about it. Just Staring at me with a look of utmost tragedy in his eyes. It was some freaky shit.

We kept eye contact for quite some time while I tried to delve into the enigma of his simple dogmind. He continued to whine insistently during my attempts at a telepathic exchange with my pitiful excuse for a death-hound.

WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME, DOG.

It seemed evident that the only possible source for his sudden, unaccountable misery and psychological fragility had to have been caused by his burden of baked goods. He’d just been glaring and whining for a good two minutes without making any attempt to eat his bread, so I assumed that he simply did not know what to do with it and that he was finding it distressful.

The good owner and companion that I am (After I spent considerable time laughing at the spectacle before me), I attempted to relieve the slice of bread from his person, only to be met with savage growls.

I decided to let him have his bread (Which I have no idea where he got it from in the first place), and sure enough he eventually figured out that food does indeed enter through the face and end up somehow inside you.

Satisfied with my dogs intelligent deductions, I left him to his bread and returned to my internet shennanhigans, deciding to document my adventures to my friends.

After this, things seemed to settle down.
For a while.

Every now and then my dog would decide that something else in the house was disturbing enough to suddenly panic about despite living in this house for his entire life and never having caused any kind of commotion about it before.

On his adventures into manic depression, my dog decided that it was appropriate to whine at the curtains and several other, quite harmless, inanimate objects as well as ocassionally enter the room to circle around my chair and leave again as well as a few other antics which I was not witness to because I didn’t really care much for what my (apparently) crazy-ass dog does in his spare time.

Aside from that, everything was quiet for 10 or 20 minutes or so, until I hear the most god awful noises from behind me. In response to the nasty-ass retching and gurgling sounds I get up out of my chair and coax my feeble dog to the back door, as was protocol. Though it turned out that there wasn’t even any vomit on the carpet and I think that this was an elaborate ruse to get my attention.

As I led my dog through the kitchen he poked his nose curiously at the backs of my knees. I shook him off because it’s impolite to do such things to a lady and then opened the door for him to go and chunder outside.

He did no such thing. And instead decided that it was appropriate to attempt to fornicate with my leg.

I was fucking HORRIFIED. I ran the hell out of there before he got a good hold of my innocent appendages and broke out into a reel of angry gibberish in the general direction of my dog as I fled back to the computer to write up an update on my situation.

I have no idea what to make of this and I believe the only logical explanation is that my dog is having some kind of mid-life crisis.