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Are you sure it isn’t a rabbit? What about a rat?

Issue Date: Friday, Jul. 07, 2006

Max: Lookit me. I am cute and cuddly and also quite a snuggler. I will love you and shed on you and make biscuits on your belly.

Self: I know buddy but your big daddy over there…

Mister: … What?

Self: Well, it goes like this Max, my little love…

Max: Oh shit. I can see where this is going. You would suck at poker… SUCK! Your face gives it all away.

Self: It won’t be so bad my love.

Max: [releases a baleful puff of fur in response]

Self: Come on now Max, it isn’t that bad. It is just a dog. A puppy. You’ll grow to love him I promise.

Max: That’s a pretty tall order there Dionne Warwick… why don’t you tell it to your Psychic Friends Network.

Self: Oh. My. God. You are not even old enough to make references to some cheesy ass 1980’s soothsayer.

Max: Soothsayer? SOOTHSAYER? Did you really just say soothsayer? And I am too old enough… and for your information Miss Traitor, I can watch VH1’s I Love the 80’s just as well as anyone.

Self: This is not about your VH1 addiction and we both know it. If you would just meet him…

Max: A dog. You brought a DOG into this house and you want me to be all cordial and shit?

Self: That would be nice. Yes.

Max: [sighs and turns his back]

Self: Look, you are going to have to meet him sooner or later.

Max: Do you not love me anymore?

Self: Oh honey, it isn’t like we are trying to replace you. You are still our baby and always will be. No matter what you do, we will always love you and provide a home for you and brush you and give you nose rubs and you can head-butt us and make daddy sneeze…

Max: Is this about the ass-ing incident?

Self: N---

Max: Or because of my breath?

Self: N---

Max: Or because of my girlfriend?

Self: Boo, the ass-ing thing was an accident. You had no clue the lawn guy was going to start the leaf blower right next to the window when you were sitting on the back of the couch. And that stuff came out of the fabric anyways. And the breath? Uh, we-… no baby, your breath is fine. [gag] And last but not least honey… your girlfriend? Is a large, black leather tote. You have great taste in purses my little furry one, but in women? Not so much.

Max: So, where is this new member of the family? If I have to meet him, I have to meet him. Just expect to give me lots of brush time, attention out the ass (sorry, no pun intended) and treats. Lots of treats. Screw this Science Diet Prescription shit. Bring on the bacon!

Self: Mister? Would you bring the puppy over to meet Max?

Mister: Oh… sure…

Mister walks over and hands me the puppy.

Galen: So, you are the resident cat around here huh? Hmmm… may I taste your tail?

Max: What the fuck is that?

Self: Max, this is Galen, Galen this is Max. Galen, please stop trying to eat Max’s tail. And Max? Watch your mouth young man.

Max: Is that a rabbit?

Self: No, Galen is a puppy. A baby dog. You have met dogs before.

Max: Are you sure it isn’t a rabbit? What about a rat?

Self: Galen is not a rat.

Max: Can I eat him?

Self: No sir, you may not eat him. He is a puppy, he may just be two pounds of cuteness, but he is a puppy, not a snack.

Mister: This isn’t going well is it?

I would like to report that Mister finally got the puppy he has wanted for years. Little Galen is a healthy, happy eight-week-old puppy that already has the basics of housetraining down after just a week in the SuzannaDanna household. Not one accident [knock on wood].

Max, however, is still not pleased.


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To understand this dear reward (above) at all, you must hie thee on and read gatsby’s grape ape entry and my comments.

And because of said comments he sent me my very own dream turtle in an email titled wee gift with these words attached, “my purple monkey is booked solid so i ordered you a tangerine turtle. hope he proves helpful.”

The Graphic Below Courtesy of Papernapkin.

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