I’m a dog guy all the way. In fact, dog parks are my favorite place to meet single women holding a bag of shit.
But I was a neglectful owner last week, when I traveled to San Francisco and completely forgot Ricky’s birthday. He was born on Thanksgiving, so every November 24th, we go to PetSmart and he picks out a toy.
This year, we went six days late, but all was quickly forgiven as Rick got down to business. He whittled it down to three choices:
One with three imbedded tennis balls, a football harboring one tennis ball, and, God forbid – a canvas bone from Bret Michael’s (yes,
that Bret Michael) line of dog toys.
Winner (unfortunately): the canvas bone. Happy birthday, dummy.
