About a year ago, my girlfriend and I reconnected after 8 long years apart - before you start asking yourself why my girlfriend slobbers so much, let me finish. In recent years, she acquired a dog named Roofus. As a result, I have become a dog owner by proxy and I’m tickled fucking neon pink about it because he’s pretty much the shit.
As a boxer, Roofus is predisposed to floppy, loose skin around his mouth. In other words, he has jowls. I can honestly say that the term ‘jowl’ wasn’t part of my daily vocabulary before he came along. It’s not that I had an aversion to the word, per se, but I simply had no reason to use it. Now, the word is used in endearment, in frustration and in observation.
“Who’s got the smushiest jowls in town? Roofus does!”
“Fuck, there’s something caught in his jowls again.”
“Look at his jowls; they are all flattened on the floor.”
Now an expert at commenting on jowls, I’ve had to restrain my tongue from identifying floppy jowls on my fellow humans. Turns out, it’s much less endearing to tell the lady in front of you at Starbucks that her jowls remind you of your boxer’s. Who knew?
I love that dog like I love my own tits - he’s soft, warm and loves a good rub down (wink). But let me tell you, folks: he drools more than a teenage boy at a Hooter’s. As a result, I’ve learned to rock the ‘it’s-just-slobber-no-biggie’ look, since fighting against it has proven to be a colossal waste of time. His favourite is licking clean laundry, so really, there’s no hope.
After about a year of dog ownership, the following is a list of things that have changed as a result of spending my time with The Smush.
- I am now one of ‘those’ people, who thinks everything Roofus does is the cutest thing and should be shared with the world. (Maybe not everything. Although he does look like a serious and concerned elderly man when he poops. Jussayin')
- My voice does this weird thing when he’s around. I think this is pretty common, but either way, it's not sexy.
- My girlfriend usually has a piece of paper towel in her pocket, just in case.
- I’ll ask friends, “Can Roofus come too?” when we have a low-key night planned.
- I look at other dogs and compare them in cuteness. “Look at that tail. It’s not as cute as Roof’s nub.”
- Little dogs are not real dogs. (Sorry- this isn’t really true. I just might break their whole body trying to play after playing with the beast.)
- I’m on the ground a lot more often.
- I snap my fingers in my sleep to get Roofus to be quiet... even when he’s also asleep. (Only my girlfriend has witnessed this, so her word against mine. I think I was just into some smooth jazz.)
- My dinner is not just my dinner any longer. “But potatoes are his faaaavourite.”
- When I’m walking home from a night of drinking, my girlfriend witnesses my exclamations of excitement when I remember that we have a dog. “I can’t waiiiiiiiiit to smuuuuuuush that faaaaaaaace.” And then I stumble off the sidewalk and think about eating some pizza.
I’m still not used to his potent fartbombs and I’m not the dominant poop-picker-upper of the house, but I can proudly say that the little shit gets seriously excited when I walk through the door at 4:25pm, and my heart instantly grows to the size of a 26.
To those of you who aren’t ‘dog people’, I’m sorry for this absurd post. Having said that, YOU look at this face and tell me how you could ever possibly think of saying ‘no’.
And for good measure....
Here is a picture of Roofus wearing a tank top. His manly chest gets all the ladies.
Happy Spring, folks!