Hey, Buck. Whatcha doing?
“Guarding. And y’know what? I didn’t know I had it in me. Not bred for it at all. I have absolutely no Doberman in me. I see a stranger, I love and trust that stranger. Not anymore, muchacho.”
Wow, everyone’s right. It is rather unpleasant to be called that.
“This kid is protected. I got her. Y’know that truck that comes by every morning and smells like paper?”
That’s the mail.
“I will take that truck down, man. I will take that truck down to Chinatown.”
“Or bears. Not bred for that, either, but I would fuck up a bear if it looked at Podgey wrong.”
“I call her Podgey.”
“Look at her wrists.”
Yeah, that’s a good name.
“Love this kid. No idea where the hell she came from, but she’s mine now. Sometimes she pokes me in the eye, but she doesn’t mean it.”
Hasn’t developed fine motor control yet.
“Yeah, she just waves all four legs around at random.”
“And not housebroken.”
People don’t get housebroken. We call it “toilet trained.”
“Same concept, though, right? Don’t shit on the living room floor?”
“That’s all I’m saying. So, there’s the pooping and the flailing. Those are the downsides. Everything else is a positive with this kid. You simply would not believe the smells that come off her. There’s a new scent every ten minutes.”
“Super exciting! I’m not a puppy, man. I’ve done some serious smelling in my time, and this kid’s blowing my nose.”
I see what you did there.
“Dude, hold on a sec.”
“We gotta pick this up later. She just pooped again, and I’m gonna try to eat the whole diaper before anyone stops me.”