1. Nice Pad
2. Perfect Husband
3. World Peace
4. Well Mannered Puppy
Wait. My wife has one of those things. Our apartment is nice.
I think on day one, a week ago, she thought she was halfway there (having abandoned any hope for numbers 2 and 3). I am sure that now, even she, the patient, puppy-loving softy that she is, has come to consider cane-cide. Dr. Dinkus is truly an asshole.
There is nothing so relaxing on a Saturday morning as waking up at six thirty to a crying bedpost-biting dog, walking through a maze of five urine puddles and two poop-bombs in order to clean up the puddles and bombs with news-paper and then mop the floor, all while being bitten on the ankles by the one responsible for the poop and pee, which is being cleaned up. Then the mop is attacked. Then the ankles again. His little itty-bitty teeth sure are cute.
Ah, domestic bliss.
Retribution came in the form of giving Dinky his first bath, which, of course, he did not enjoy.
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