Last night Mommy and I were watching a wonderful program about a woman who had a litter of two children, then another of six, called John and Kate plus Eight, when I found out that Jon, the calm and docile male, may have been sniffing a tail that didn’t belong to pack leader Kate.
Let me tell you boys something, you might think it’s OK to give a whiff to every Lollipop that goes floating by, but when you got a bitch like Kate waiting at home, with her angry coslopus from which she pushed eight of your children you better hope she’s lethargic from milking because your butts going to have more teeth marks in it than Matilda’s rawhide couch.
Now Daddy, he’s a silly man, and he said “well the way she bosses him around you can’t blame him.” Mommy and I, we don’t have to speak, we just look at him, and he sighs, walks outside, lies in the hammock, wishes he had sprung for the one with the canvas top because it’s raining, and hopes Mommy allows him back in before dawn.
Watching this sniveling cheater made me wonder about my own favorite reality family “The Shams & Sweets and pack” gang. I woke up this morning, passing Daddy asleep in the hammock, sure he regretted having said he wanted to watch: “Jon and L.C. living in The Hills plus twice monthly visitation and two major holidays a year.”
I walked into our new puppy park, past the Tanner Bub statue, and right in front of me, sitting in the sun, was the Pack’s Papa, Duke, licking himself down under. “Stop right there!” I said. “You have thousands of fans and your actions are sullying your reputation.”
“What?” he asked. “I’m cleaning myself.” “Oh don’t give me that! Monk doesn’t spend this much time polishing his knobs. You are a famous dog, everyone waits for the Puppy Digest to come out each week, and here you are, sitting in the park, treating your body like it’s an amusement park!”
He shrugged and went back to licking himself. I knew what I had to do as a friend. I couldn’t let Fay Fay find out about this in the Puppy Enquirer, I had to tell her myself. I found her on the opposite side of the park trying to keep her kids from eating a fence. I told her about Duke.
“Oh Foley, he’s just a dog, he has to sniff and lick and stick his nose where it doesn’t belong, but at the end of the night he’s snuggled up with me and that’s all that matters.” She then went back to tending to her children. The poor delusional woman: Ovaries must warp the mind.
I went back to Duke and you wouldn’t believe what I found. Duke was sniffing Zoe Boe’s butt. “Zoe, you’re a good girl,” I said. “You don’t want to be mixed up in this.” “Oh Foley that’s just the way we say hi,” she said, but suddenly there was the sound of scuffling in the bushes and blasts of light.
It was puppies! With cameras! It was the pupperazzi! And they were taking pictures of Zoe and Duke together. Soon the Puppy Enquirer would have them on page one, following the Pack everywhere they went, writing all sorts of terrible things, just because Duke’s a butt sniffer.
Men. Can’t live with. Can’t think of a reason to with them once you’re neutered.