In The Category Of "Shit That Only Happens To Us"

Our youngest, the dear Silky terrier, has learned a new trick: He can now pull a chair out from dining room table by butting it with his head and use it to jump up onto of the table. Where he…??? What exactly does a small dog do on top of a dining room table? Hmm. Lets think…

Oh, I know. He takes a big piss right in the center, next to the salt and peppershakers. Then jumps down and looks at us like, "What? I didn't do anything… Oh, the pee. Yeah, about that… I was checking the table for WMDs and came across it. Strangest thing. I'd talk to the cat I were you." Then he storms off to torment Ripken.

And I struggle for the next 10 minutes to determine how much I really love him. Is my love for Deuce stronger than my urge to remove his limbs with of my favorite pair of tweezers one appendage at a time? Yes, today he lives.

But hear this, Deuce, your little testicles – the ones that cause you to hump and hike and act like a disagreeable pain in the ass – those nuts, they are not long for this earth. I've given up my delusions of breeding you in exchange for my sanity. So enjoy your ball now, little man, for soon they will be bronzed and I will be wearing them on a chain around my neck.