theseadog

As outrageous as what you are about to read may seem, I assure you, it is true. I would NEVER lie to you.

(EDITORS NOTE: The previous two statements should be considered lies. Or half truths, at best.)

I sat around today, doing nothing. All in all, it turned out to be a complete waste of 24 hours. So, I'll mark that up in the success column.

At one point today, I was staring at an odd spot on the carpet, and contemplating its origins, when I happened to look over at Jake, our doggie. (See pics for more details) I noticed that Jake seemed to be contemplating the same spot. Or perhaps, it had meerly conjured up long forgotten memories. Whatever the case, the site of the offending spot filled my doggie with the urge to lick his balls. (Or, more accurately, the region where his balls once resided)

So now I was watching my dog lick himself. You know... Down there. To be polite, I decided I should probably look away. Before I had a chance to remove my gaze from him, however, Jake looked directly at me, and said, " Don't pick your nose."

I was taken aback. I hadn't been picking my nose at all. Whatever could he have been talking about.

And so I replied, "So, do you want me to kill my family, or something? Cus usually when a dog talks to you, it's the devil telling you to kill your family... or something."

"No," he responded, "I like OUR family. They feed me, and scratch behind my ears. Just don't pick your nose... Ok."

"Ummmmm... Ok.... But I wasn't picking my nose. I was just..."

"Listen," he interjected, "I'm not accusing you of picking your nose. I'm not even trying to incinuate that you do it habitually. I'm just trying to offer you some good advice. So don't pick your nose. And you should wait a half hour after eating before you you go swimming."

"Jeez, Jake. You sound like mom."

"Well, what do you expect. I follow her around all the time. It was bound to rub off."

I thought about this for a second. "Yeah, I suppose that makes sense. Hey, do you think you could cook like her? Cus I'm pretty damn hungry."

"Steve... Look at me. I'm a dog. I have no opposable thumbs. How the hell do you expect me to cook? Shit, I lick my own balls. The concept of exquisite culinary treats is lost upon me. You want good motherly advice, I'm your dog. But if you'd like to know how edible a substance is, I fear I may be a bit too open minded for your taste,"

He had a point. My dog is really quite smart. For a dog, at least. "Ok, Jake. So maybe you can help me with this one. Where DID that spot on the rug come from?"

As jakes gaze slid across the floor, and came to rest upon the the stain, I noticed an odd glint in his eye. Was that how dogs smiled? Before I could come up with an answer, Jake had quickly snapped his eyeline back to myself. "Ahhh, yes. The stain. That, my friend, is a story for another time."

And with that, Jake returned to the task of cleansing his balls. Leaving me, once again, to stare at the lonely spot, on my parents carpet.