The Luv Doc: Purebred
His heart was the size of a peppercorn
My girlfriend got a dog for Christmas. She lives alone and I can’t move in with her because my lease goes through August, so we decided it would be a good idea for her to get a dog for companionship and protection. Without my input, she went and got a rescue dog, and right from the jump it hated me. Every time I go to her house it growls and barks at me and she has to put it in her bedroom to calm it down, which usually means about 30 minutes to an hour of barking. This is really starting to strain our relationship because I now hate going to her house because of all the hassle. Also, she never can go out for very long because she feels like she has to get back to take care of the dog. I have offered to pay for training, but she says she doesn’t have the time and doesn’t want to take my money. Can dogs be unrescued? What do I do in this situation? – Out of the Dog House
Sounds like to me your girlfriend has an excellent guard dog. Well done! And truly, who knows what might have happened had she chosen to rescue her dog from some shopping mall puppy mill? Don’t get me wrong, after you drag them out of their depressingly lit, puppy peep show terrariums, some of those mill mutants really light up and can be cute as buttons – even if they might have more genetic disorders than a Habsburg prince. With a rescue dog, at least you know they’ve been road tested. Sure, it might have a slight problem with incontinence, anal leakage, and night terrors, but that stuff is always painstakingly detailed in their website bios, so you pretty much know what you’re getting. You don’t get that with mall dogs or even Habsburg princes.
Imagine how Marie Louise d’Orléans must have felt when she found out her new husband King Charles II only had one testicle that was described in his autopsy as being “black as coal.” On the plus side ... maybe? ... he had “an enlarged tongue,” but “his heart was the size of a peppercorn,” “his intestines were rotten and gangrenous,” and he was prone to bouts of epilepsy. I feel fairly certain that regardless of how intrigued Marie Louise might have been about that enlarged tongue, she probably urged him to keep it in his mouth for sanitary reasons alone. If several thousand years of European history have taught us anything, it’s this: Don’t fuck your cousins.
Poor Marie Louise, but also poor Charles II. I think it’s safe to say that, regardless of the political upheaval it caused, it’s probably best that Charles II died without an heir and put an end to the Habsburg dynasty, because the Habsburgs’ penchant for cousin fucking definitely put the “nasty” in “dynasty.” To this day whenever someone uses the term “purebred” I think of King Chuck’s shriveled black testicle and gangrenous intestines. The Habsburgs’ efforts to keep strangers out only caused them to rot from within. These days we have “God’s Army” headed down to the border to keep the “ferners” out. Those people are purebreds for sure – and by that I mean they’re cousin fuckers.
So good on your girlfriend for choosing a rescue dog, even though it might be a little noisy and maybe even bitey and whatnot. The nice thing about dogs is they can be bought – just like politicians. Make sure from now on when you go to your girlfriend’s house you bring lots of high-value treats for her dog. Not that dollar-store dreck, but the good goods. It’s going to take a bit of patience, but if every time that dog sees you she gets a treat, she is going to start treating you ... right. There is also one other gambit you might try: Ask your girlfriend if you can take the dog for obedience lessons. I know that’s a big commitment, but in the long run I think it will be good for everyone. Plus, you won’t be asking her to solve the problem, which is an attractive trait in any boyfriend.