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“That’s when you know you’ve found somebody really special: you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably share silence.” ~Pulp Fiction

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Chuey Baby

It's been several months since I've moved in with my mother. Now, most people would groan/gag/kill in this type of situation. But my mom works all around the country most of the year -- giving me a free house, free HBO and a free deaf dog to look after.

This dog (Baby) is my mom's pride and joy. She doesn't leave her side. She's like Helen Keller meets Lassie, but much uglier. She gets lots of "she's so hideous that she's kind of cute" comments. Not a one-liner I want to hear any time soon, but I digress.

So, upon moving back in with my mom, not only was my ego a little bruised from returning to the nest -- I was a little wounded by the fact that my mom paid more attention to her little "Baby Angel" than to her own flesh and blood. Therefore I needed my own puppy.

I mean, it is the ultimate situation: living with a woman who loves animals more than babies, having a fenced in backyard, no job and someone who, after several temper tantrums, will pay the money for a puppy. So I was on the lookout. I knew I couldn't just pop home with a puppy because free puppies are like the leppers of the dog world. I was biding my time, waiting for the perfect little bundle of joy to dribble from heaven an into my home.

The time came soon enough...

My brother's 20th birthday took place at a Chinese restaurant in a local strip mall (we Berkens are not cheap dates), and right next door to Chang's Garden is a pet store. It is our tradition to go look at the gerbils, hideous birds and cuddly bunnies after every outing to Chang's so it wasn't hard to get my mom in the store.

And then we saw him...

Right next to a playpen full of rat terriers was my little nugget. His little brindle body shivered with excitement as he laid eyes on our family. And I'm not going to lie, it's been a long time since any guy showed that much attention to me, so I was immediately sold. My mom, however, was not quite as whorish as her daughter. Her exact words were "absolutely not." But, after my brother threatened to throw his fullback frame on the floor and burst into tears, we were sold on the newest addition: Chuey Berken.

But now, a month later, the honeymoon period has warn off. Don't get me wrong I love this dog more than if I birthed him from my own loins; but, he is worse than a toddler. And to top it all off, my mom just started a new relationship. So while she's off to dinners, concerts and romantic camping trips -- I'm home scrubbing shit out of shit-stained carpet. I mean, this dog has not only shit on every square-inch of the house -- he also has developed the habit of peeing when I pick him up. Now, I know what you're thinking -- well, the poor little baby is terrified of his big mean master. No I'm pretty sure this is done out of spite. Because even when I'm swallowing screams as he's running away from me in the laundry room and I'm talking in a voice saved only for Mary Poppins, the little ass still squirts...and it's almost always on MY: jacket, foot, hand, blanket, freshly cleaned pants, etc.

So, to make a long story short: I am not the next Dog Whisperer and might take a couple more years to think about my willingness to procreate. But, until then, I'll be here squeezing the shit (hopefully not literally) out of this precious little bastard.

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