Geez, bitch, just because I don't want to make out doesn't mean I want to fight!

Our dog, Opposite of Einstein (aka Oppstein), is a small dachshund-ish mutt, with a curly tail. Oppstein loves to cuddle, but sometimes too much. Tonight she was trying her hardest to sit on my shoulder and lick my neck, and I wouldn't let her. After a few minutes of pushing her off my shoulder, just to have her run back and try to lick me again, I finally shoved Oppstein harder, to the other side of the couch, and told her, "I like you, but I don't want to make out."

This set off a frenzy of growling and attempts to get me to wrestle with her.

I wouldn't have anything to do with it, and ignored her, so she instead switched over to my husband, Jeff, who was sitting on the floor nearby. He's always game for riling up Oppstein, and likes to make her as hyper as possible, so within a few minutes the dog went from trying to play tug-o-war with her chew toy to full on snarling and running around the room, barely missing children and fragile items, and looking like she was having the time of her life.

After about 10 minutes of hard playing, Oppstein was running full-speed, doing circles around the living room, faster, and faster and faster! Soon she was going so fast that she was about to melt, like the tigers in "Little Black Sambo."

Suddenly a look of utter shock crossed her face, and in mid-stride she slid to a stop...

... and started pooping.

I jumped up to open the door, and she ran outside to finish, but the damage to her ego was done. For the rest of the evening she hid behind me on the couch and seemed embarrassed to even look at Jeff.