I'm Going to Commit Murder!

All my life I’ve had a dog of some sort. Most all of them have been mixed breed dogs that someone was wanting to give away, and me being the nice person that I am, I gladly take the dog into my home. I provided everything I possible could to make their lives, and mine, enjoyable. I also like having a pet around for protection and entertainment.

After my boys reached a certain age they of course wanted a dog, and again I gladly gave into their adorable little 5 year old smiles. But then something would happen, like the dog running away, it gets hit by a car, or someone steals it, etc...Then there have been a few dogs that have crossed my path, that have caused a part of me to loathe dogs on the most extreme level. That is where MsPsycho took over and did what had to be done.

Okay, so let me step aside, and I’ll let MsPsycho’s invade your world for a few minutes. Warning MsPsycho tends to use profanities quite frequently, so if you are offended by someone using vulgar language, I suggest you read no further.


I can’t fucking stand dogs! And I’m going to tell you why! First of all, they stink! No matter how often, or what type of dog shampoo you use, in the end they all still smell like something crawled onto their bodies and died. Next, dog hair everywhere! It’s on my floors, carpet, rubbed against the side of my sofa (since I don’t fucking allow them on the couch), all over the bathroom where they’ve been giving a bath, and sometimes I even find the shit on my kitchen countertops! Guess who has to clean all this shit up! ME! It doesn’t just magically disappear on its own!

Allergies! I hate sneezing all the liquid out my nose after they’ve been in the house rolling around on my carpet. Then I can’t breathe right until I’ve taken some type of pill that is more than likely going to leave me feeling ‘not quite right’ for the next few hours.

So, you say just leave them outside... Right? Wrong! Outside all they do is bark when the wind blows a little too hard! Then they start digging at the ground and the fence trying to get at whatever they are barking at. Eventually they make it out on a day when nobody is at home, and I get a fine for DOG BEING AT LARGE. There goes a fucking $100 dollars and time spent in court!

After their little escape to freedom, I get both Labs back inside my privacy fence, and almost pass out from the horrendous smell that is now on my hands from touching them. I know they’ve been doing that upside down back rub across some animal that has been laying dead in the street for days. Maybe that makes them feel special when they do that? Fucking stinks to me bitch!

I give them food and water, and then proceed for the billionth time to replace the broken boards to the back fence. There goes money for food, new boards and nails for the fence, dog shampoo for the bath, water to wash them both, carpet cleaner and carpet shampoo to get rid of the smell they brought back with them that lingers like a huge TURD that just won’t flush. And I still have to pay the fucking court ticket!

Oh, and don’t forget about all the time this is consuming!

Since I have a male and female, I have had to deal with puppies. Which is fun to a certain point, but even that becomes a pain in the ass when the puppies reach a certain age and you have to find homes for all of them. To make sure this doesn’t happen again, I have to come up with money to have my dog spayed. She comes in heat two days before the surgery, and I have to make sure - Mr my dick is so hard that I’m going to fucking die if I don’t get to fuck that female bitch,- my male dog doesn’t get her pregnant before I have a chance to get her fixed.

TWO days of him howling to get inside. I throw water on his face, smack him with a broom handle, threaten him with my voice, etc.. NOTHING WORKS! I’m thinking about a shock collar, but is that too cruel? At this point, I don’t give a damn.

Finally the day of surgery. After only a couple hours of sleep, I get up at 5:30am, get dressed, load the dog into my car, and drive to a clinic on the other side of Tulsa to drop her off at 7am. I’m told it won’t be until around 4 or 5pm before she will be ready to go home, so I spend the day out picking up a few Christmas leftovers in Sand Springs. (I don’t live in Sand Springs, but I love stalking a few people over there.)

Around 2pm, I return to the house. I go into psycho mode the moment I walk in the door and see what my male lab has done to my backdoor. He has spent the entire day chewing and gnawing at the solid wood door until he had managed to make a hole large enough for him to squeeze his 90+ pound body under the door. When he sees me, he knows he’s in trouble, and immediately goes to his doghouse and lays down inside with only a part of his face sticking out to look around.

The temperature that day was below freezing, and inside my house the heater was blowing full blast, but it had little effect on the temperature of the room. I left my jacket on and found what I could to block the cold air from turning my fingertips blue. I made a quick dash to the lumber store and brought a large piece of metal to cover the opening, and then went to pick up my female lab who had come through surgery okay.

After making the needed repairs that evening, I laid down for some much need rest, leaving my male dog outside and the female inside for one week. Since she is still in heat, I have to keep the two dogs separated so he doesn’t cause her serious injury after the surgery. The next morning I was awaken by the sound of my female lab barking loudly in the other room. I jump up quickly thinking she may need to use the bathroom, and walk into the front room. There stands my male dog! He has cuts all over his face and paws where he dug, bit, pawed at the metal on the door until he was able to rip it open. Just to get to the PUSSY!

Another trip to Sutherlands! This time for more metal, new boards, screws, etc.. To complete the job. It was that, or spend a hundred dollars for a brand new door, and hope like hell I could put it up by myself. God only fucking knows, NOBODY else but me, is going to fucking fix the goddamn thing!

I chain my male lab up outside near his doghouse, and have to listen to him howl like someone is beating him with a hammer for the next five days! I want to end this dogs life! I have had NO restful sleep! Sleep a minute, listen to him howl, yell at him to shut up and go lay down. Sleep for two minutes, howling begins again. Let him howl until I’m sure the neighbors will soon be complaining. Fuck them! I’m complaining! I get up and toss a glass of water in his face and tell him again to be quiet. Nothing works!

I’m so exhausted I’m beginning to have some more than usually fucked up thoughts tossing around in my brain. If I don’t get some god damn sleep soon, I don’t think I’m going to be able to hold back my impulses. FIVE DAYS of this bullshit! I want to end this mother fuckers life with my bare hands.

And I would if it were up to me, but the owner of this body might really be upset if I were to do something psycho that caused her to do jail time. So, for now I will retreat back behind the black curtains until I’m needed again.

Killing for Pleasure

My boyfriend at the time was just getting off from work, when he spotted two Rottiweiler dogs roaming the parking lot near his car. They were very friendly so he petted them both, and then walked back inside to pick up his jacket that he had forgotten. A friend of his arrived for his shift, noticed the dogs, and decided he wanted to take one of them home with him. My boyfriend of course had to have the other one, and quickly put him in back of his car and brought him to my house. It was a complete mistake from day one.

The dog was a nice looking Rott and very friendly, but he was already full grown, so I felt no emotional attachment to the dog. My boyfriend was the one who wanted to have him, but unless I took time to feed him, he never got watered or fed. Eventually I began to hate the dog because there were always arguments about the dogs care. Instead of buying or building the dog a doghouse, my boyfriend used the money to try and build a large stereo system to put in the back of his car. So when it rained the dog would howl for hours and hours, which began to bother the neighbors and they would come complaining to me.


My next door neighbors hated him, because every time they tried to do anything in their backyard, the dog would bark at them and jump up on the fence. One day the neighbor got to close and he jumped up on the fence and somehow scratched her on the arm. I never got to see the wound, but she claimed she had to go to the E.R. and have stitches. To avoid any more hassles with my neighbor I agree to pay her hospital bill of $181.00.

We had a fenced in back yard, but somehow he began getting loose everyday and roaming the neighborhood, which made people very uneasy seeing a big Rott running around loose. The cops were called several times, and when they tried to catch him, he would come running towards the backyard, so they knew he was ours. After two tickets I was fed up, and demanded that the dog had to be more secured or I would get rid of him. My boyfriend and I argued for two days until he finally went to the hardware store and purchased a large, long, metal chain. He then secured the chain around the dogs neck and the other end around a clothesline pole. Again this was fine, until it rained and then he would howl and howl for hours.

Another day, one of my sons friends, who was only 5, came into the backyard and began playing with him. I hadn't even notice the boy had come into my backyard, or I could have kept an eye on him. The next thing I knew I heard a blood curling scream, and my son and the boy came running into the house. The boy was holding his ear, and I could see blood flowing down from where his hand was being held. I tried to ask him what happened but he was too upset, so I hurried him over to his house and left him with his parents. I talked to my son about what had happened and he said his friend was trying to take the chain off the dog when the dog jumped up and his paw came down on the young neighbor boy. I found out later that the dogs claw had almost torn his ear off, anyway that's what they told me, and of course they wanted me to pay the $300 dollar hospital bill, plus a couple of hundred for his pain and suffering. This time I refused to pay, because I didn't feel it was my fault since he had come into my backyard, without me knowing.

I hated the dog more everyday and began refusing to feed and water him. If he was to be fed then, my boyfriend would have to be the one taking care of him, and I let him know this. Days would sometimes go by, without the dog getting fed. He looked so miserable that I couldn't even stand looking at him.

My younger son, who was only 2 at the time, began sneaking outside without me knowing. I had caught him a couple of times, in the backyard trying to play with the dog. It didn't worry me that the dog would try to bite him, but the dog liked jumping up on people. My son was a small two-year-old, and the dog was three times his size and weight. Sure enough, one day my fears came true, and my son tried to play with him. The dog jumped up on him, and one of the dogs nails hit my son in the head, putting a large nail hole wound in his forehead. He came running and screaming into the house with blood running down from his head. I quickly picked him up and called 911, telling them my son was injured from the dog.

Within 10 minutes the fire department arrived. I was so furious at the dog, all I could think about was a way to get rid of him. The injury wasn't real serious, but he still had to have 3 stitches in his head, right along the hairline. As they were helping him, all I could think about was what if it had been his eye, or what if the dog had continued jumping on him. After that, I put a lock on the backdoor, so my little boy couldn't go outside unless I was with him.

The next night it poured down rain and the dog howled for hours. I had only a few hours of sleep, between worrying about my son, and listen to the dog non-stop. I was awaken by a noise in the backyard, and quickly went to see what was going on. Somehow the dog had managed to get loose from the clothesline pole, and was dragging the chain behind. He had tried to jump over the fence, but the chain had hung up and it left him partly dangling in the air. I struggle to free him, hurting my arm as I did. I felt such deep anger inside. It was then that I began forming plans in my head about what I was going to do with the dog. I imagined the worst possible torture, and even the quickest most humane way to have it out of my life.

I tied him to the clothesline, and then went back into the house for a bucket of water. As I was letting the water run into the bucket I began adding some rat poison that I had under the sink. Next I found some poison for killing slugs and added that to the water. I wasn't sure if it would kill him, but I really didn't care. I just wanted to inflict harm on it, in some manner. I carried the water outside and sat if down next to him. He quickly drank the water, since he hadn't been watered in days. I turned and walked away.

Without a second thought to what might happen, I got my sons ready for a day of fun, and took them to the park to play. We had a picnic and walked around exploring places we had never been. Not even once did my mind wonder to the dog and think about how it might be doing. I really didn't care. Maybe I didn't secure it to the pole tight enough and when I got back it would escape and be long gone somewhere. I played and played with my boys, pushing them on the swings until we all became tired. When it was close to the time for my boyfriend to stop by my place, we packed up all our things and headed home.

When we returned my boyfriend was already there. He had found the dog dead in the backyard, and again he was free from the chain. He had a suspicion that someone may have poisoned the dog, but I convinced him that something happened to the dog during the storm. The neighbor behind our house saw the dog, and heard us talking about what may have happened. The neighbor quickly put in his two cents and said he thought the dog may have but killed by lightening. He said he had heard lightening strike real close to the house and since the dog was chained to the pole, he probably died of shock. I quickly jumped in and agreed with what he had to say. My boyfriend finally became convinced that was what had happened and took the do away for disposal. In my mind, I completely blocked out the fact that I had given the dog tainted water, and began fully believing that the dog had died because of being struck by lightening.

This happened in the fall of 1995. I just remembered today, in the fall of 2007, that I was the one responsible for killing the dog. I don't know why suddenly the memory returned to me, but I felt compelled to write down the story.