Matilda Beast is one year old.
Her first birthday was yesterday, August 22.
The reason I’m posting it today instead of yesterday is that I’ve been walking around the last few weeks thinking she was born on the 23. This kind of subtle trickery is classic Matilda.
Sure she looks cute and sweet, but so do I. She’s actually a demon devil dog of epic proportions. Our horns are locked in an eternal struggle of evil vs evil.
She’s destructive. She leaves a trail of garbage and filth in her wake. She hides things from me. She can fly (multiple times I’ve found her with objects that I specifically put up high so she couldn’t get to them. I’ll move chairs and things away from tables only to find her up on the table later anyway.) She marks her territory and she thinks everything is her territory. She bites and bullies me. She abhors the telephone so I haven’t had a bark-free conversation in months. She hates noise in our complex and she’s constantly alerting me that we’re under siege due to alarming sounds that only she can hear. She’s a succubus who feeds off my energy so she never needs sleep and she’s sure that it’s her job to keep me awake if she’s awake.
And worst of all, she acts like a total sweetheart when friends come over, leading them to believe my rants against her are the rants of a paranoid, delusional maniac.
So happy birthday Matilda Beast. I know the devil sent you to me because you were making Hell unlivable.