Pure Evil

Norman Bates: “She just goes a little mad sometimes. We all go a little mad sometimes. Haven't you?”

Marion Crane: “Yes. Sometimes just one time can be enough.”

- Psycho

            Since he came to us last February, Vito has exhibited a “puppy love” crush on Beth, his human sister, if you will.

            His eyes alight with twinkles when they’re together. During this past Christmas break, he never left her alone, not to eat, or sleep, or take care of her personal hygiene. Everywhere Beth went, a panting, drooling Vito followed.

            We all thought it was cute, until it took a dark twist.

            That was the day her real boyfriend, a human named Chase, came to visit for a couple of days.

            With Chase in the house, Beth couldn’t give Vito the affection to which he had become accustomed.

            So Vito, like any self-respecting psycho, began to engage in depraved behaviors to get Beth’s attention.

            He’d nip at the pants of the young man as he passed, or he’d refuse to make room on the couch where Chase and Beth wanted to sit. Actions that seemed insignificant at the time, but in retrospect were gateway behaviors for the truly weird stuff to come.

            That night, as the couple went out on a date, I noticed mysterious, small spots on the carpet. A few minutes later, I saw Vito hunched over. He regurgitated a small amount of stomach content at the foot of the couch where Chase had been sitting. This discharge looked like the spots on the carpet.

            “Vito,” I accused. “Have you been pretending to be sick so Beth will notice you?”

            He looked at me, beaming with lunacy.

            “You’re unbelievable,” I said, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him outside to his pen.

            “You stay out here in solitary confinement and think about your behavior,” I lectured. “By tomorrow morning, you better be over this bizarre, inter-species love triangle that you’ve concocted in your own small, bitter mind.”

            He winked at me, much the way I imagine Jack-the-Ripper did before he cut the throats of his innocent victims.

            The night spent in the cooler didn’t change his outlook. In fact, it made matters worse.

            He acted up all day, stealing Beth’s socks and chewing on her new coat.

            But it was during dinner that he pulled the real stinker.

            I had given him a Busy Bone to occupy himself while we ate, and he seemed content.

            As I was cleaning up after dinner, I walked by the back door and happened to glance at Chase’s shoes.

            It seems that while I thought he was happy with his Busy Bone, Vito was busily doing something else. He had removed a blob of wet Kleenex from the toilet bowl and plopped the wad on Chase’s shoes.

            “Bad boy,” I hissed. “Bad Vito.”

            To which Vito opened his mouth in a wide freakazoid smile.

            I quickly cleaned up the mess, finishing in the nick of time.

             Chase rounded the corner. I stood erect in front of his shoes, shoving the wad of wet paper in the pocket of my hoodie, plastering an innocent-looking smile on my face.

            “Everything was really great," said Chase. "Thank you.” I cast my eyes down toward Vito, who was in the process of raising his leg, getting ready to further assault Chase’s shoes.

            I swatted Vito’s leg, all the while smiling at Chase.

            “You’re welcome,” I said sweetly, through gritted teeth.

            “And Vito is a great dog,” Chase said, bending down, patting the dog’s head.

            Vito was all smiles as he looked up at Chase.

            The dog is evil, I tell you, pure evil.