#62 – “When Coddling Goes Astray”

I try not to overly coddle my dog. But it’s hard to avoid, since I’m constantly combating the bad influence set by my wife. She spends so much time carrying our little Shitty around that onlookers undoubtedly mistake him for a quadriplegic. In reality, however, he owns four perfectly functioning appendages. But thanks to my doting spouse (doting only on the dog, I assure you), he doesn’t seem unduly interested in using them. Who can blame him though? Why waste horsepower motoring himself from place to place, when a personal slave can bear him about instead, like some ancient Egyptian Pharaoh?

Continue reading

#92 – Accidents Will Happen … to me!

My wife and I turned another corner with Prometheus last night. For the first time, we let the puppy sleep without a middle-of-the-evening potty break. And his crate remained bone dry too! Until last night, one of us always set an alarm for 2:00 a.m., so Prometheus could empty his tiny bladder in the yard where pee-pee properly belongs (as I’ve repeatedly told him). Those late-night strolls have taken a toll on both Sophia and me. As should seem obvious by now, I’m not the most careful soul under ordinary circumstances. And waking from a dead sleep to take a puppy out has proved anything but ordinary. I haven’t been at my best, and the periodic blunders caused by my sleep-deprived brain have tasked the poor woman to her limit.

Continue reading

#120 – The Feast of St. Prometheus

“Prometheus” sounds like an awful big name for a little dog who just got his balls removed. I took him to the vet for neutering on Wednesday and picked him up yesterday morning. On the trip out, the unwitting pooch happily wagged his nubbin as we passed his friend, Tootles, playing in his yard. The scene reminded me of the classic “Far Side” cartoon, where a dog mocks his canine pal by telling him: “Ha ha ha, Biff. Guess What? After we go to the drugstore and the post office, I’m going to the vet’s to get tutored.”

Continue reading

#129 – The Better Mousetrap

What is it with women and mice? Sure, there must be females somewhere without fear of the critters, bit I haven’t met any. My mother spent her entire life in terror of field mice, and she passed on the senseless dread to her daughters. And all the women in my wife’s family, including her, quiver in fright at the merest hint of the tiny rodents.

Continue reading