Okay, I have a confession to make to my friends in the blogosphere. My sense of humor is a little…weeelllll….disturbing. If you are sensitive to disturbing images then turn away now and do not look at the end of this post. You might not be able to handle it. Anyway, a few months back, my daughter Elly had been begging for a Wiener Dog. Her father tries to act like a staunch disciplinarian, but we all know that he is really a big pushover. Especially when it comes to dogs. Chris is even more dog crazy than I am. I argued that we had three dogs already and that mommy had enough things to keep alive, but Chris cracked under the avid persistence of his first born, a.k.a. Daddy’s Girl. He caught me at a weak moment on a Saturday morning before I had had my cup of Joe and dragged me to a breeder in Ft. Branch. They only had one left, a boy they called Apollo. He weighed less than three pounds. Too cute for words. Daddy couldn’t shell out the $750.00 asking price fast enough. As we were pulling away, I looked down at the card. It said Miniature Daschund. I’m thinking shit, this dog is always going to fit through the six inch gaps in our aluminum fence. That means that mommy is on potty walk duty for the rest of his natural life. He was cute though. So cute. My daughter Elly changed his name to Buddy after the one in “The Secret Life of Pets”. He looks just like the character and Buddy is a good name for him because he follows me everywhere. I mean everywhere. He’s under my chair right now. With Buddy’s arrival, I realized something about myself. I am a little dog person. I found this out after twelve years of having big drooling behemoths in the house. I fell in love with this dog and he fell in love with me. Elly complains that I stole him, but I didn’t do it on purpose. Honest. I started to have secret fantasies of finding Buddy a lady love and having baby miniature wieners around. Can you imagine? Cuteness overload. I hinted as much to Chris, but he wasn’t going for it. Especially after Buddy began to hump everything that moved. Mostly Chris’s arms and grandma’s legs. He never bothered me. I’m his mother and that would be gross, but Chris’s big sexy arms were too much for him. He would dive on them at night while Chris was trying to sleep. During the day, my mother-in-law Joyce was the main target. Joyce is Baptist. Not just a little Baptist. A lot Baptist. She was deeply offended that Buddy kept trying to have premarital relations with her calves. I thought it was funny, but she wasn’t amused so poor Buddy’s balls had to go. Now for those of you who don’t know me, I have been with my husband since high school. We are both strong first borns which according to “The Birth Order Book” by Dr. Lehman is a terrible match, but we have managed to make it for nearly twenty-five years. It will be twenty-five years in July. Of course I know exactly what day. I’m a chick. It’s the 19th. It’s in my DNA to remember these useless details. We admittedly drive each other a little crazy so we have learned not to take each other too seriously. Most of the time. There is a definite power struggle that has been brewing for years and I decided to take advantage of Buddy’s unfortunate predicament to exert my dominance. I asked the vet to place Buddy’s leftover parts in a jar of solution for me. She actually did it. I love our vet Dr. Ramos. She has an easy smile and is always laughing and she actually put Buddy’s balls in a jar for me. I then wrote, “Chris’s Testicles Property of Amber” and placed them on the mantle as a subtle sign of who’s really in charge. How did Chris react? I guess we’ve been together too long and he has grown used to my dry wit. It didn’t even phase him. He was quietly fascinated by what they looked like on the inside though. Our daughter Elly said they looked like little brains. Hmmmm. I could say it, but I’m not going to.
Can a disobedient dog help you to find true happiness? Coming soon, to almost everywhere e-books are sold.