#10 – A Shitty Excuse for a Dog

I got a puppy for father’s day this year, or so it would seem. No doubt guilt-ridden over her role in Oedipus’ disappearance, Sophia presented me with a tiny, squirming ball of fur this morning. She told me “I know you’ve wanted a dog for a long time, and we don’t have kids of our own, so Happy Father’s Day!” It’s safe to say my response wasn’t precisely the one she expected: “A dog? That’s great! Is this undersized rat the bait to catch it?”

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#11 – In Training

Today’s post is a three-parter. Last night, I wrote the first section. I typed up the final part at 4:30 this afternoon. And the photos in the middle? Well, those I took over the course of the day, the exceedingly long day. Part I – The Plan. Sophia insists on sending Prometheus to obedience school. Naturally, I beg to differ.

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#16 – Holy Mary, Full of Grace, Among Other Things

I’m pretty sure the apocalypse is near. How do I know? Because, yesterday, my in-laws moved into their new home – down the street from ours – contravening my well-publicized vow that “I’ll live in the same neighborhood with my wife’s parents the day hell freezes over!” No good can come of this close proximity either. Ever since the disastrous initial meeting with the Gambino clan, my relationship with most of Sophia’s family has been a mite tenuous.

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#24 – Anything but the Marlboro Man

I hate smoking in general, but I’m especially against marketing tobacco to our youth – Prometheus included. Yesterday morning, a cigarette butt cast aside on my front lawn (courtesy of some unidentified douchebag) proved too tempting a morsel for the young canine. No, he didn’t light up; I have a strict rule against minors playing with matches. However, he did swallow the item whole.

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#44 – Are Those the Lips You Kiss Your Mother With?

It never ceases to amaze me how conveniently selective my wife can be, when it comes to choosing which objects she’s willing to put in or against her mouth. Last month, she pressed her lips against my late iguana’s face, with disastrous results. A few days ago, she returned home from work and French kissed Prometheus for forty-six seconds.

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#51 – Wabbit Season

Several people have told me they don’t see much (if any) sign of Shih Tzu in Prometheus. What do I know? Before my wife gifted him to me, for Father’s Day, I couldn’t have picked a Shih-Tzu or a Yorkie out of a lineup, and I’d certainly never heard of a melding of the two breeds. The truth of the situation makes no difference to me either. To be blunt, at less than six pounds, there’s not enough of the critter for me to give a crap. In any case, I’m far less concerned over the percentage of Shih-Tzu genetically contributed to my puppy than I am about the disturbing inter-species behavior I’m seeing from him.

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