The Ass Licker

I don't really like dogs. Actually, let me rephrase that - I REALLY don't like dogs. If you're a dog person, please don't be offended. I don't like cats, or birds, or hamsters, or any other animal that people feel the need to keep in their homes either. I understand the desire for the unconditional love dog people claim to receive from their pets. I know how when you've had a rough day, there's nothing like coming home to Duke, or Buddy, or Bobo - he or she won't yell at you like your boss, or act like an asshole on a date, or be obnoxious to you at Duane Reade when all you wanna know is where the goddamn shampoo is. I get all that. But to me, dogs are just dirty. I've given the canines their fair chance by dating women with dogs, all of whom used my living room as their own personal toilets...the dogs, that is. Not the women. So when a friend called during last night's San Antonio/Phoenix game, offering to set me up with a dog owner, I hesitated.

"She's really pretty, and smart, and funny. So what if she has a dog?," she asked.

"If it works out, at some point she's gonna wanna bring the dog to my apartment, and I don't want it here. Is she cool with that?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Who cares? Why are you refusing to meet someone because they have a dog. This woman is perfect for you."

"If she were perfect for me, she wouldn't have a dog."

"Get over it. What's the big deal to have a dog in your apartment?"

"When I come over to your place, you make me take my shoes off, right?"

"Yeah."

"Because my shoes have been walking around the filthy, urine soaked streets of the city, right?"

"So?"

"Dogs don't have shoes to take off. All the shit they walk on winds up all over the house."

"You're sick."

"I never claimed to be otherwise."

"Just call her. She's really cool. I'll bet she'd even be okay with the fact that you're not a dog lover. Just don't discuss that on the first date."

I was about to give in before I asked, "Does she kiss the dog?"

"Huh?"

"Have you ever seen her kiss her dog?"

"I think so. I told you. She's a dog lover. That's what they do."

"Not all dog lovers kiss their dogs. Forget it."

"Oh my god. You need help."

"I can't kiss a chick whose mouth touched a dog's mouth after the dog stuck it's face up another dog's unwiped ass."

"You know what?," she said, "forget this girl. I'm getting you the number of a good therapist."

"Forget the girl or the therapist. Just get me a dog whose ass I can lick. It'll be the same as me kissing the girl. We can just avoid the middleman."

"Uch!," she said. "Go back to your basketball game. Hope you don't get too lonely sitting on that sofa by yourself for the rest of your life."

Her departing words stung a bit. I really don't want to sit on the sofa by myself for the rest of my life. But I also don't want to lick a dog's ass by association.

End result: San Antonio: 102 Phoenix: 96...My breath: minty fresh, and smells nothing like an unwiped dog's ass.