#189 – Furballs

An hour ago, my sister Lisa assured me she hadn’t sent the guy who claimed to need legal representation. I can only hope there’s someone else out there looking to play an elaborate practical joke. Otherwise, it appears I blew a golden opportunity to gain a new client with a fascinating case.

The tale this morning was a whopper from almost word one. The man, whom I’ll refer to as “Roger,” began: “Because my wife has a great ass, I only like having sex from behind, so I can stare at that great ass while we do it. I guess she finally tired of using the same position for five years, and she decided to make a point. A couple of months ago, she came to bed wearing a full-body dog costume. When I asked her ‘why,’ she said: ‘If you insist on screwing me like a dog, then I might as well look like one too.’ She made me do her that night in the costume! Even worse, she enjoyed the experience, a lot; and since then, she’ll only make love while wearing it.”

Roger had to be pulling my leg, so I thought. Nonetheless, I decided to enjoy myself and play out the gag: “So, for the past two months you’ve been nailing a woman dressed like a dog?”

“I know it sounds crazy; but I love my wife and I’ll do almost anything to please her. Anyway, I thought she was going through a phase, and she’d eventually snap out of it.”

“Did she?”

“No, just the opposite. Two weeks ago, I came home and found a second dog costume in the bedroom. She bought it for me so we could share ‘fur play’ together, as she called it. Naturally, I refused. I mean, I truly love my wife, but …”

“I understand completely,” I offered in my most empathetic tone. “What self-respecting guy dresses up like a dog simply because he’s screwing a woman in a canine outfit?”

Roger flashed me one of those are you making fun of me? looks before continuing: “Yeah; well, yesterday she told me that she’s a ‘plushie’ and needs to be with someone who shares her new lifestyle. She said if I’m not willing to put the dog costume on for the sake of our marriage, then she wants a divorce. And that’s why I’m here? What are my options?”

“It depends. Do the two of you have puppies?”

This time, Roger complemented his evil glare with a perturbed accusation: “I didn’t come here looking for wise-ass commentary. If you can’t give me legitimate advice, I’ll find someone who can. The answer to your question is ‘no,’ we don’t have kids. Now, what do you advise?”

I didn’t buy Roger’s false outrage for an instant. His story seemed too reminiscent of the guy whose wife purportedly screwed their German shepherd, courtesy of Lisa’s last practical joke. Although mistakenly, it turns out, I felt certain my sister had played me again and I responded in kind. I excused myself for a minute and returned bearing a tube of my puppy’s flea and tick medication, which I handed to Roger, telling him: “Here; apply this between your shoulder blades tonight, and once a month from then on. After all, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

That’s when Roger stormed out of my office … in search of “a lawyer who’ll take my problem seriously!”

 
 
 
Because when you’re screwing a woman in a dog outfit, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

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