Yes, it’s true. No, I didn’t get a phone call or a strange visit to inform me that some little munchkin sprung from my loins. Just saying that it hit me today while I was rolling around on the floor with my dogs, that they really are my kids, and I’m daddy to them much the way I’d be daddy to a child. I’ve said it before sort of off-hand and joking-like, but this time I’m pretty serious. I think I’d be a good dad, if I wanted real kids.

But I’m fine with my fake, hairy kids instead. I think they’re better, actually, because I get to parent the way I want to parent. Think about it: Would I really be able to put a collar on a real child? No. With the dogs, I can collar them, and it’s perfectly acceptable to just put their name and home phone on a tag around their neck. I can put a leash on them and yank on them when they’re bad. When they poop, I can swat them with newspaper. I only have to feed them once or twice a day.

I don’t have to change diapers. I don’t have to compete for breast time. I don’t have to take them to school. I don’t have to buy new clothes all the time, nor bathe them frequently. Nope, I’m pretty sure that this is the type of parenting that I was cut out for; doggy parent. I think I’ll put that on my business card. Random bob, a.r.c: Doggy Parent extraordinaire. It’s true.



Off to see that damn Movie. For Reals
OK, so now that the plumbing issues are out of the way, we’re off to actually see American Gangster. Better be good, too, because at this point it’ll be a $207.35 movie. Better. Be. Good. I’ll let you know at a later date. But for now? That’s all, folks. Random bob must get up and get un-naked to go out tonight.

Yes, you just read words that saw me naked earlier. Contemplate that for a minute.

Peace.

Tags: Entertainment, Animals