Frumples, the dog who hates me

This is Frumples, the dog who hates me.

Isn’t he adorable? Frumples is the most hilarious dog because he can’t help but be a terribly adorable miniature American Eskimo on the outside. On the inside he has the soul of a black eyeliner-wearing, gothic poetry loving, hateful teenager.

Crawling in my skiiiin, These wooounds they willll not healllll

You see, I am 100% a dog person. I have loved dogs my entire life. I’ve always been that person who wants to steal your dog for a day and play fetch at the park. At times it seems like I measure times in my life by the dogs I’ve known. I can’t help it, when I see their faces and their big eyes I just want to smoosh their faces and hug their furry necks.

Eskimos are kind of known for having a very small pack. That means that while they generally love about 2-3 people with their whole being, they aren’t very fond of the rest of the world.

Not only do I have to deal with Frumples’s genetic disposition, but we also have the fact that a) he’s a rescue dog, so he’s extra shy around new people, and b) that I inadvertently tripped his mother once or something I don’t know, he hates me extra hard.

As soon as we’re done here, I’m going back to my bed and re-reading The Phantom of the Opera.

Every time I come in the door he barks like a maniac: “OH NO NOT YOU AGAIN”. After about three and a half hours of being home he MIGHT come near me and give me a reluctant sniff.

If I call him over, he’ll step a foot in my direction, and then about face and hide underneath my roommate’s bed.

While he willingly does tricks and takes treats from my roommates, generally speaking, if I’m holding the cookie, he decides he didn’t want one after all, and then goes and hides underneath my roommate’s bed.

My favorite moments are when my roommates get him riled up and racing around my apartment. He will race from person to person and do a little dance of excitement, huffing and yipping all the while. It is adorable and hilarious. The best part is that when I try to join in, and he screeches to a halt, glares at me, and then trots off to hide under my roommate’s bed.

Must… bite… egg…

My life has become a never-ending series of attempts to get this dog to love me. Peanut butter and cookies aren’t working, as are walks. If I put the leash on him (if I can get close enough), he proceeds to wind himself under chairs and tables so he’s trapped inside.

Thankfully my roommates realize that this is all due to his temperament, and no actions of mine.

I’m convinced that SOMEDAY I will get him to love me.
In the meantime, I get my revenge by having my roommates bribe him with treats, and taking photos of him.

I hate everything, but most of all… you.


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