Posted by: noturreality | April 26, 2008

Kells, Dogballs & Dynamite

 

Last night I sat with crossed legs on our puppy piss infested couch and sipped on some Kells, an Irish style lager brewed somewhere other than Ireland, pondering. The bottle didn’t come from one of those internet ‘Beer of The Month’ clubs but from the local Hy-Vee Liquor Store. I’ve found that it packs a bit of a punch and tastes better than your standard run of the mill beer that comes in a case of 24.  Not that those beers are bad.  I’ll probably have my fair share this weekend, like normal, when friends come to town (God, has that really became the norm?). 

Earlier, I had came home to our $1,500 nine month old 70lb English bulldog, full of piss and vinegar (yes, Dimmitt, now I’m blog’n bout my fuck’n expensive ass dog…I’m one of those people). He was jumping around, frolicking like a happy puppy should when his friend comes home from work (that’s me, I’m his friend).    

His name is Dublin. He is a male. The last two days, I have noticed a change in his doghood jewels, well at least one of them.  It is fare to say that his right testical has formed into a small avocado and much larger that his left testi.  And it has become much more noticeable than the day before.  Not that I like looking at my dogs junk.  It’s pretty hard not to notice when he doesn’t wear pants. He is a dog.  But what if he wore tight pants (pronounced ‘toyt’)?  Anyway…

His ball sack has become a growing concern.

It became an even larger concern 30 minutes later, after he had vomited 3 large piles of nastiness and looked like misery ran over twice.  That’s when I started to feel his pain.  I took a football cleat to the midsection once that took the wind right out of me and made me gag.  My very own testical had blown up to the size of a child’s fist. It fuck’n sucked.  I don’t wish that type of pain on anybody. I hurt just thinking about it. 

I called the vet. The vet called back. We made an appointment to exam Dublin for the following morning. I gave Dubs a purple chewable grape baby Tylenol.

Then my evening got a little more…how should I say this…bizarre.  As I sat there on the couch, in the living room, sipping on the Kells, noticing a much happier puppy, a dance broke out.  It had been 3 hours since I had medicated the dog, per the vet’s advice, and I started to wonder if the dog knew what the hell was going on.

My girlfriend, dressed in costume as Napoleon Dynamite had began dancing to “canned heat”.  She was performing the ‘Vote for Pedro’ dance scene. 

I’m dating a Napoleon Dynamite look-a-like and my dog has elephantitis of the dog balls. 

Time for some more Kells.

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