The dog stories made me remember a few odd moments.
1. This is back when my wife and I were first dating.
My dog, a Beagle named Steve, was staying with her for the night while I was out of town. Before I had left, she and I had done the freaky-freaky.
A few hours later, her parents came over for dinner.
During the meal, Steve the Beagle goes upstairs, digs through the trash, comes back, and proudly plunks down our used condom to contribute to the family feast.
I had only briefly met her parents once before, so basically, after this visit, they had spent more time with my hooie-balooie than with me.
2. Another Steve story.
When he was a puppy, Steve liked to play with stuffed animals. His favorite was a stuffed seal we named Whiskers. It was bigger than him; he'd grab it by the neck and shake it all over.
One afternoon, the wife and I were going at it. In the middle of it, she taps me on the shoulder and points off the side of the bed.
It was Puppy Steve, staring at us, matching me stroke for stroke on Whiskers. Eyes bulging, tongue hanging out, the whole bit.
Joe, who seems to have too many of these stories for comfort
1. This is back when my wife and I were first dating.
My dog, a Beagle named Steve, was staying with her for the night while I was out of town. Before I had left, she and I had done the freaky-freaky.
A few hours later, her parents came over for dinner.
During the meal, Steve the Beagle goes upstairs, digs through the trash, comes back, and proudly plunks down our used condom to contribute to the family feast.
I had only briefly met her parents once before, so basically, after this visit, they had spent more time with my hooie-balooie than with me.
2. Another Steve story.
When he was a puppy, Steve liked to play with stuffed animals. His favorite was a stuffed seal we named Whiskers. It was bigger than him; he'd grab it by the neck and shake it all over.
One afternoon, the wife and I were going at it. In the middle of it, she taps me on the shoulder and points off the side of the bed.
It was Puppy Steve, staring at us, matching me stroke for stroke on Whiskers. Eyes bulging, tongue hanging out, the whole bit.
Joe, who seems to have too many of these stories for comfort