The Comedians Wife

The Comedians Wife
If it's good luck when it rains on your wedding day, what does it mean if a hurricane blows through?

Friday, July 9, 2010

My Dog, The Poor Bastard!

I didn't know what to blog about today,  it being a pretty uneventful day.  So I decided to take my poor bastard of a dog for a walk.  After a long lap around the block, and what has to be the longest piss in the history of dog pisses, it dawned on me.  It was only fair I write about "The Mick." Mickey James Mantel to be exact. The third penis in my very male household.  My very beautiful, very stupid Labrador Retriever.   I have no idea where the "James" came from in his name. My husband just started to throw it in there when we would find him face down in the garbage can, or up to his elbows in mud from digging out side.  I also have no idea where the retriever part came from because this dog has yet to bring me anything but a headache.
 This dog is insistent upon eating every pair of flip flops I own.  Stupid enough to think they taste good and definitely deficient in the dog walking department.  Oh sure he use to be our numero uno.  Our precious little pup.  Or sweet gullible dumb dog.  All pre baby of course.  Now the poor thing is lucky if we remember to feed him.  If I had a dollar for every time I yelled, "Did anyone feed the dog?" I would be rich!  I'm pretty sure I saw him roll his eyes at me today on our walk when my mouth was gaping open when he peed for what had to be twenty minutes.
 If Mickey could speak he would have said, " Bitch... what are you staring at? Maybe if you took me out more like you use to, I wouldn't have to stand here like a freaking fire hydrant."
 When I think about it, this dog went from 1500 thread count sheets to my pregnancy pillow stuffed in a corner of the room.  Hikes up Runyon Canyon to hikes up onto the couch.  It's really a wonder he hasn't run away.
Mans best friend right? Oh but that's just the thing about Mickey.  Just when I think I'm ready to give him away, or bring him "back to the farm".  There he is under my feet when they are cold.  Greeting me at the door like I am god damn Angelina Jolie.  Helping me clean up all the god for saken food my son has thrown on the floor for the umpteenth time that day.  There is he the poor bastard,  just ready to love!

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