...but a baby seemed too easy--too much like fun. That's why we got a dog.

My dog's name is Champion Master Scooter Wellington, III. We call him, obviously enough, Muffy. Okay, we call him Scooter, or any variation thereof (Scoots, Toots, Scooty, Pooper, You Little Fucker Don't Pee on the Rug). We are quite sure he is dim and possibly deaf. He likes to lie down a lot. Here are his stats:

Age: 15 weeks
Height: about four inches above my ankle
Weight: A lot heavier than the cat
Location: Crate/living room carpet/kitchen floor
Favorite Hobby: Peeing everywhere but outside
Favorite Snack: The leather sofa
Pet Peeve: The whole leash shit bit
Best Friend: Not the cat
Newest Talent: "Sit" command--if "sit" means flopping to one side in a slightly autistic manner and scratching his peter
Stupidity factor: High. Chernobyl high.
If You Could be Anywhere in the World, Where would it Be?: Sitting in a pile of my own crap.

Here is what two days of dog ownership have taught me: Dogs are really dumb and really cute. Dogs smell like mildewy wool. Dogs drink a lot of water; hence, dogs take a lot of pisses. Dogs are perpetual two-year-olds who don't have the ability to say "Mama". Dogs--in short--are for Cubs fans; you just keep hoping they make it, and when they do, it's miraculous and totally worth the effort. The rest of the time? It's a good way to meet other people with dogs who are experiencing the same kind of restless, furtive frustration.

I really, really love my dog.