I shouldn’t say he “picked up”. His girlfriend found this dumbass wondering on busy 44th street in Phoenix. She chased it down, and it came home with her like she was the first human on earth.
They quickly learned how they “got” this dog. Every time the dog got loose, she trotted away and never looked back. Whoever feeds this thing, is it’s new master — loyalty of a 2-dollar whore.
Boy named it “Susan.” It’s just funny to call a miniature dog “Susan,” he said.
I changed it to “Susan B. Anthony,” because the dog is obviously for civil rights and may hate abortion.
And it’s fun to yell, “Susan B. Anthony — you get right back here this minute,” across a crowded Savage party.
Fast forward a few months, and Susan B. Anthony goes into heat. The boy and his girl had to buy a couple of doggie diapers to control the spotting. One pair had a cheetah print. The real Susan B. Anthony might approve.
We berate our kids that their job as “parents” is to get that dog spade. Fast forward a few more months — Susan B. Anthony still has a uterus.
It’s obvious they suck as parents. They compete for that dog’s affection like it’s a decathlon and second place is puppy purgatory.
“She loves me more…”
“No, she loves me more…”
Why don’t you two douchebag millennials shut the fuck up and get me a beer.
But neither one wants to be the “bad guy” that has to take their dog-child to the vet.
Then they go to Florida for a long weekend, and leave the dog with the Bear.
“I’ll take care of it,” the Bear said. “And when I’m done Susan B. Anthony will love me more than both of you.”
The Bear whisked Susan off to the vet, and then spoiled her rotten for a week with walks and custom treats and sleeping on the bed between the sheets.
By day 4, Stockholm Syndrome had fully set in. Susan did love the Bear.
But two minutes after the “kids” got back, she loved them more. They brought bacon snacks or some shit like that.
Because even after Susan B. Anthony was spade, that rat with the dog-like behavior still has the loyalty of a $2-dollar attention whore.