On Saturday Daddy came strolling in with a Petco bag. River and I jumped down and ran to him anxious to see what treats he had bought. First he pulled out two clear bottles with little nozzles protruding from them that resembled River’s receding teets.
Daddy explained that is was a bottle that attached to the our crate’s front door. It is filled with water and the teat part comes into the crate so we can get water. Our parents decided they needed to provide water for us while crated but in their previous attempts a rather clumsy dog (me) would spill the water all over the crate. The outside bottle was, what they called, rather insensitively “Pocket proof,” and, to add insult to injury, Daddy said the success of the product would depend on the intelligence of the dog to lick the teat and get water and they weren’t worried about River figuring it out they were worried about me.
Unlike my sister I am a good girl, a lifelong virgin, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to get water out of a stiff tube, and I am insulted by the implication. I was pretty steamed at my parents but later in the day they gave me kibble and you know us dogs, all was forgiven and I was in love again.
The second thing he brought was more interesting. It was a chew toy that was twisted into a pretzel. It looked good and it smelled great. River went to it immediately and began chewing but I am more discerning and read the label. A Bully stick. Now that sounded promising.
Until I googled it. A bully stick is made from a bull’s pizzle or what would be more commonly known as a bull’s penis. I am not sticking that thing in my mouth, not without a little dinner and wine first. Single mother River? She was just going to town on it but I am a little lady.
That night Foley came down to see me in my dreams. “What’s going on?” she asked. “I leave you in charge and River is jumping on the table, on the dining room chairs, and now there’s a bull dick on the floor.”
I tried to explain how these things were out of my control and that she had to understand how difficult it was with an uncooperative little sister. She made a hummphing sound and left my dream.
I must admit, I tried one of those bull things, pretty tasty, but I got diarrhea the next day, a payment for my sins of walking around with a dick in my mouth. A day later so did River. No more bull dicks for us, so don’t worry about your junk when we’re around Clara Belle.
Although I would like to correct the humans about something: Instead of saying take the bull by the horns they should say take the bull by the pizzle.
