Scratching an Itch
Nixon is my wonder dog. He has only pooped on the floor twice, peed once and puked just a little. In forty-eight hours. He has discovered a taste for my sheep skin slippers and my camera case. He humps anything that is stationary. Or as my daughter says, he is scratching his itchy belly. I don't want to tell her that my puppy is raping her favorite teddy bear.
But aside from his perverted tendencies, his pooping delights and the odd whizzing, I owe this pooch a debt of gratitude. For yesterday was my dear sister's baby shower. Shudder. And if it wasn't for the amazing humping prowess of my pup, the shower might have fallen flat. Only four of my sister's invited friends showed up. It was a good thing I padded the numbers with my best friends and my daughter. Nixon provided endless entertainment and amusement as he itched his little belly all over the place. And in the end, a good time was had by all. (Well, a good time was had by me, due to the booze in my coffee.)
Here's to you, Nixon. You have humped your way into my heart with your itchy belly.