I believe the year was 2006. I was 16 years old, but thanks to the anti-aging cream I used on my penis, I didn’t look a day over 11 (a wildly inappropriate thing to say, I promise the rest of this blog entry will not be so unnecessarily vulgar).
Anyway. I lived with my mom, my dad, and my sister who was (and still is) four years younger than me. My family had never owned a dog before, mostly because my sister was allergic and my dad had anger issues.
But then, one day, something magical happened. After years of persistent badgering by mother and sister, my father finally caved and got us a dog. His name was Sparky. And this is where things get a little queer.
We didn’t get a golden retriever, a beagle, a terrier, or even a poodle. No, that would be far too pedestrian for the Wexlers, and not at all embarrassing. Instead, we got a Golden Doodle. A Golden Doodle. That is what I have to tell people when they ask me what kind of dog I have.
A sample conversation:
Lady with breasts: “Oh my God you’re dog is so cute! What kind of dog is it?”
Me: “Ummm, he’s a golden doodle.”
Lady with breasts: “Hehehehe a what??”
Me: “I said a Golden Doo…how dare you put me in this situation!”
Lady With Breasts: “I love your Harvard joke.”
Don’t get me wrong, Sparky is an amazing dog. He never barks, he knows commands, he doesn’t shed, he’s an all-round great guy. He’s like a younger brother to me (if my parents were dogs). But every time I look at him, I think of C3-PO’s erect penis.
“Blake, just because your dog’s breed has a silly name doesn’t mean he’s a gay dog! What other evidence do you have?”
I’ll fucking tell you.
1) His name is Sparky.
2) He has a shady history:
Sparky used to be a “service dog”. Meaning he was taken around to hospitals, rehab facilities, and PRISONS to cheer those people up. When we first brought Sparky home, we were given a picture of our fluffy new family member sitting next to an inmate at a prison.
We all know what prisons are for (and by we, I mean the only intelligent people on Earth: college students). Prisons are not for paying a debt to society, nor are they for finding God. They are for forming new gangs, white supremacy, and butt-hole compromising. If my dog WAS raped by a gang in prison, I’m not saying he wanted it. I’m just saying he can be a bit of a jezebel sometimes and probably didn’t put up a fight.
3) I’ve actually seen my dog have sex with another male dog.
I’m not proud of this,