Mimsy the Jack Russell terrorist.
Mimsy was a short-haired terrorist, and rather small for the breed. She belonged to the woman I was with at the time. I had what could best be described as a love-hate relationship with the dog- she could be needy and annoying and destructive and shat on the rug, but she could also be sweet and snuggly and loved to play with me.

Like most Jack Russell terrorists, she insisted on sleeping under the covers behind someone's knees. Usually it was her owner's knees, but often it was mine- she was generally partial to me over her owner, and would sleep with me if she could get away with it. She would run her nose down my spine and curl up in a miserable little shivering ball whenever it was cold, until the middle of the night when she was warm, when she would stretch out and insert a pointy little paw where it was least welcome.

Some nights I would drink Belgian ale with a bit of scotch. This invariably has the same effect on me every time- in the middle of the night and into the next morning I get the Death Farts. As a rule I avoid the combination for that reason, but on certain nights it was irresistible.

So on occasion I would climb into bed, tired and full of good ale, and the dog would run her cold little nose down my spine. An hour or two later I would feel the pressure build, and would let loose with a blast right on her head.

I always felt a bit of joy when it was enough to drive her completely out of the bed.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 17 Jun 2011, 2:32, 5 replies)

Never, never, never
kick a mimsy out of bed. Never.
At least not until you've been clicked...
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Fri 17 Jun 2011, 6:12, closed)

Well, that wasn't really her name.
Her name was Rosie, but she acquired a number of nicknames- Mini Pooch, Nub Tail, Odie Dog, and so on. During the winter she acted so miserable and would huddle in a shivering little ball that I named her Mimsy as it was a portmanteau of miserable and flimsy. That was the name that ended up sticking with her.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 17 Jun 2011, 16:34, closed)

** officelol **
Gods, it must be bad if a dog can't bear it! This is an animal that eats its own shit and vomit, and thinks that ramming a nose into a stranger's chocolate starfish is a sensible form of greeting...
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Fri 17 Jun 2011, 12:09, closed)

Heh.
Yeah, it can get pretty vile- combine a steak dinner with a good Belgian ale such as Chimay Grande Reserve and a bit of single malt, and it makes a toxic brew within my intestine. Generally I end up waking around three in the morning and shuffling into the bathroom to purge it out and end the Death Farts, but not until they've awakened me.

As I say, normally I don't indulge in this combination, but on a cold winter night it can be heavenly and worth the price. Especially if it gets revenge on a creature who tries to fist me in the night.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 17 Jun 2011, 16:40, closed)

fantastic
Have a click
(andythepieman Is surfing the waves of indifference on, Wed 22 Jun 2011, 15:19, closed)