Saturday, March 20, 2010

Irish Yet Unlucky

***
Big Pupi isn't pleased:

You may have noticed that I have been blessed with devilishly handsome freckles. For this reason, mom calls me her "Irish Son" (making my pierogie-loving brother her "Polish Son"). Despite my clover-bearing heritage and the fact that I happen to look smashing in green, St. Patrick's Day is not a lucky one for me. Why, you might ask?

St. Paddy's makes my weeble angry.

The first time I found myself being horrendously violated by my doctor for an infection of my manliness was on this same Irish holiday one year ago. And this year, on the day us Irish folk should be drinking from green water bowls and getting kisses, I was back at the vet with another bout of Angry Weeble-itis.

If you remember, I have a "condition" which makes my manhood a little exaggerated for a beast of my proportions. When you add this to my amazing flexibility (I can hike a hinder up perpendicular to the ground when marking my territory), it makes for some weeble-flopping-on-stuff action. I pick up some nice bacteria doing this, and it always hits as soon as the weather warms up - which is March in my neck of the woods. Or city.

The doctor had to do the most horrible of horrible things to me at the Place of Tile and Steel. She actually took a little red rubber piece of tubing and SHOVED IT where I'm pretty certain it was NOT supposed to go, and then flushed sterile saline all over my privacy and I'm pretty sure I never ever ever want that to happen again. Humans are totally insane and I truly think they enjoy a little cocker spaniel torture every once in a while.

If I could have blushed through my freckles I would have. And to add insult to infection, I overheard my mom saying that I was a "neutered" male. What? No way. After a few bark park discussions on what "neutered" actually means, I assured my people that I, in fact, knew where my balls where and upon our return home from the doctor I brought one out to show my mom.
See? I think this qualifies me as "in tact," although I really don't like labels.

I spent the remainder of the evening gripping my ball as tightly as possible so as to ease any concerns about the degree of my masculinity. Or maybe it was just to reassure myself. I also made certain to check on my manhood often, as I was very concerned that I would try to run away after its day of horrors.
Thanks to an antibiotic, my weeble is no longer angry and seems to be doing quite well. But now mom holds me back when I mark my territory so that my manliness doesn't come in contact with anything anymore. This really screws with my aim, and it creates a problem of grand proportions since I like to lift my leg no less than a 1,000 times on every walk. I call it "going shopping," and a beast can't make any purchases if he can't hit his mark.

But... I guess all's well that ends well, and at least I've got my stuffy balls.
Your in-tact friend,

Big Pupi

14 comments:

Khyra The Siberian Husky And Sometimes Her Mom said...

If only they had used some Guinness....

Hugz&Khysses,
Khyra & Khousin Merdie

Niamh said...

Sounds horrific Big Pupi! You boy dogs have to worry about all that marking. Ambrose is going to have an operation soon. He tried to mark a couple of dogs in the dog park. It did not go over well.

Your friend,
Niamh

Eric said...

YIKES! I like to mark things all over too but always miss where you big boys have been.

Wiry love Eric xx

Dennis the Vizsla said...

hello big pupi its dennis the vizsla dog hay yikes that is awful!!! but it sownds like yoo got the last laff!!! altho ummmm those bals ar awfuly big are they mayd of brass??? ok bye

River said...

Ow! I hate to think of the pain. We have a weeble wobbler/dragger in Petey here. My mom even asked the vet if there was such a thing as a weeble lift (she really did!). There isn't. I'm glad you stood up for yourself. Hope you feel much better soon.

love & wags,
River

Mack said...

I think the fact that you can go 1000X plus in one walk makes you a super manly dude!!

Sure hope your weeblin' gets better soon,

Mack

Maggie and Mitch said...

OUCH! This doesn't sound like fun for you at all, Big Pupi! We're sure glad the antibiotics did the trick! Mitch likes to go shopping a lot on our walkies too!

Love ya lots
Maggie and Mitch

Mango said...

Golly, that weeble stuff trumps anything that ever happened to me in the room of tile and steel. OUCH! I sure hope you get better. Hang on to your balls!

Slobbers,
Mango

parlance said...

Please don't be insulted, Big Pupi, but I did laugh out loud just a little when i was reading your unfortunate tale. But I'm glad you're in good health now.

tadpole said...

My dearest BP. That is such a sad, sad story. Infections related to our pee-ers are especially humiliating and damaging to our manly self of self. I am so glad you found your balls, though. That makes me feel a little better. I am still looking for mine. I think the V-E-T stole them though, which is just yet another reason to despise and fear them.

The Animal Doctor said...

hehe, i luv this post, Pupi :)

i thought you look so adorable with that ball in your mouth.

~ Secretary

Amber-Mae said...

Oh lord! What a horrible, horrible torture. I would never want to go through what you have gone through...

Love licks & Hugs,
Solid Gold Dancer

Free Advice said...

Wow, that dog is actually really cute.

I had a poodle once that really enjoyed biting stuff like that he would just run around like crazy and I would always laugh and remind my girlfriend that he is a poodle and they have been liberated. hahaha

kinda silly i know, but don't blame me for being a dog freak ;P

Toffee said...

I hope you are feeling much better!
(to be honest mom got a big laugh from your, er, balls - how rude of her!)

Sorry we have not been around much. Mom has been training like crazy first the Goofy challenge in January (half marathon followed by full the next day) now it is the Boston marathon next monday!

xo