Sunday, April 22, 2012

The Chronicles of Queen Rhodesia: February 14th, 2012 - Ovariohysterectomy

Valentine's Day.  Ugh.

I hate Valentine's Day.  Why?  It all started way way waaaaay back seven years ago, February 13th, 2011.

There was this handsome victorian bulldog I had my nose on that lived somewhere upwind from 222 Central Avenue.  I don't know where exactly, but his urine smelled divine.  It had that smell of a ManDog (not DogMan cause his pee smells like he brushes his teeth with dirty bathwater from a Mexican prison) that still had both of his testicles.  It was the smell of an animal that I knew I wanted to mount me in the middle of a busy playground with kids all around asking their mom and dad what those two dogs are doing.

Every night I used to dream about this ManDog that I decided to name him Michael.  I don't know where I got that name from, but when I was a wee newborn pup in 2010, every time I heard about dogs, I used to hear about this guy, so I figured he must love dogs.

I would dream about me and ManDog frolicking in the meadows.  He would smell my butt, and I would smell his.  He would find me dead squirrels and let me roll in them first.  And I would find old dog poop and let him take the first bite.  It was a match made in heaven.

Then came February 13th, 2011.  My 13/11.

DogMan took me to the butcher.

Well, at the time I didn't know it was the butcher, because DogMan told me he was taking me to what I understood was a fertility clinic.  In my mind I thought this was my chance to get my uterus all ready for Michael.

Oh, how I was so wrong.

They got me on the table at the "clinic" and DogMan was talking to another human/dog hybrid cause he smelled like a thousand dogs rolled into one.  That should've been my first warning sign.

They put a needle in my leg, and the last thing I heard was the word "ovariohysterectomy".

Ovario what?  What the fuck?

The next thing I remember was this ridiculous pain in my stomach and the desperate need for some OxyContin.  DogMan was there when I woke up and I asked him what the hell he did to me.  My first thought was that I was in India and DogMan got me involved in the illegal dog organ trade, and he sold off one of my kidneys for a new iPad.  

Then the reality set in.

I looked over at the other bitches and dogs in the clinic and realized something - all the dogs had no testicles and all the bitches had stitches on their bellies, just like mine.

Once long ago, I watched a VH1 behind the scenes of the Dog Whisperer.  One of the extras in the show revealed Cesar's secret about how he can control all the dogs because he takes their power from eating a cocktail of boiled dog testicles, and fried bitch uterus and ovaries.

DogMan wanted to steal me away from Michael and become the new Cesar Millan.

Well congratulations, you bastard.  You've ruined my social life, and most importantly Valentine's Day, for the rest of my life.

You better sleep with a steel cup on.

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