Well, I guess I win the prize as the sucker born during MY minute.
Didn’t I JUST tell ya’ll last week that I wanted to rescue a puppy from a shelter? Didn’t I JUST say that?
I really intended to go through with my plan, too. Every day at lunch, I was hitting yet ANOTHER shelter, looking for a dog that I hoped would be a good fit for my family.
Didn’t I JUST say last week that the LAST fucking thing I wanted to do was to get a puppy from a pet store?
Well, apparently Friz had other ideas. She called me while I was at work on Friday, telling me that she was going to a very reputable and recommended pet store “just to look”. Then, she told me she was taking Mini-Me with her.
I knew then that I was done for.
No WAY was she taking my son to a puppy store and NOT coming home with one. No way.
And, I was right.
How could I say no to that?
So, now I have a puppy that cost me slightly more than my first used car.
Anyway, as I already mentioned, my son has dubbed him Ozzy. I’m not sure why.
But now a new controversy has begun. Should we spell his name “Ozzie”, conjuring up wholesome, family thoughts of Ozzie and Harriet……..
Or, should we spell his name “Ozzy”, conjuring up thoughts of devil-worshipers and biting the heads off small animals?
Anyway, it’s only been 2 days so far, but I’ve already cleaned up more pee and poop than I ever did with Mini-Me. The pup is a sweetheart but he is constantly torturing our poor cat by assuming he is another stuffed animal and chasing his ass all over the house. Hopefully, we’ll be able to curb said behavior right fucking quick.
Because right now having dogs and cats sailing past me at breakneck speeds for hours on end is seriously putting a cramp in my nighttime routine of trying to get drunk on Peppermint Schnapps and falling asleep in front of the computer watching Midget porn.
Hey, you’ve got YOUR tricks to relax, and I’ve got mine….