Random Esquire

Little Filthy got a new bed recently and he’s like a kid with a new t-shirt he wants to wear everyday. He has been without a bed for a good bit and I did not think he minded all that much because our leather couch always had a nice, warm, dog-shaped spot in the morning. But I bought the new bed and plopped it down outside our bedroom doorway he loves it. In fact, he loves it a lot. Too much. Last night, I noted that our esteemed guard dog was not outside our bedroom doorway - in fact, neither was his bed. I forgot that I’d put it in the living room so he could chew his bone on it (as opposed to his guilty not-so-secret habit of chewing it on the couch). I walked into the living room and there, in the corner, was Little Filthy…sleeping on his bed. He seriously loves that thing. I had this vision of that guy in Mexico who hadn’t left his house in five years because he weighed a half-ton and relied on family members to bathe him and take care of him from his bed. That’s going to be our dog. So reluctant to leave his bed, I’ll be forced to feed and wash him right there. And then I’ll have to use a dolly to get him outside and he’ll be featured in a USA Today article about what lousy parents we are.

Speaking of what lousy parents we are: Today was Little Filthy’s 2 1/2 year check-up. I elected to work from home so I could take him in and pick him up as soon as they called and said that he was done. So at about 6:45 this morning, I kissed Boss bye and put the leash on Little Filthy who was wiggling around, excited to be heading out. A few hours later, I picked him up and a clean bill of health…minus one thing. Little Filthy has tartar. The vet even took the time to write down on his report, “Brush teeth once a day at home to prevent tartar.” Dammit. I felt like my kid had been sent home from school with lice.

Once home, armed with a toothbrush and peanut butter flavored toothpaste, we set to work on removing the tartar and again, I am struck by what a brilliant idea it would be to use an old Sonicare toothbrush on Little Filthy save for the fact that 1) Boss would drop her blob and 2) Little Filthy would never again come when I called him. Anyway, we had a real come-to-Jesus moment because I was hoping for this:

But what I got was more like this:

Six months. I’ve got six months to polish those pearlies. Bring it, dog.