doit, doit now!

This post might be NSFW. YMMV. If you find it in fact NSFW then I apologize for offending your sensibilities beforehand, because this is actually pretty damn funny.

So my friend Sheila has several hundred dachsund puppies in her loft, or at least it seems like it when you go over there and hear them bark. Kevin and I had to dogsit for two of the little ladies about a year ago. A couple of days before the dogsitting was to occur our friend Pink told us that the dogs “69’d” on a regular basis. I was incredulous. “Pink,” I said, “dogs don’t 69.”

“No, no, they do! I swear!” he insisted.

“No way, Pink,” I said.

“Whatever, Nick,” he dismissed.

So later in the week the girls came over for their dogsitting trip. At one in the morning the fat one destroyed our comforter for no apparent reason. Feathers filled the air as we fired up the vacuum, much to the apparent chagrin of our landlords above. Meanwhile the brown one walked and peed at the same time, leaving odd, long trails of urine all over the house. Lovely. After they exhausted us with their horrible behavior adorable antics, we fell asleep in our comforterless bed.

As usual I got up the next morning an hour or two earlier than Kevin and traipsed into the office to check email and whatnot. The girls followed me in and collapsed behind me on the floor while our dog, Feynman, wisely remained sleeping in the bedroom. I was typically bleary-eyed and tired, so it took me a second to recognize the distinctive sound of tongue slapping flesh. My conversation with Pink immediately came flooding back to me. I peeked over my shoulder to find, lo and behold, the dogs doing this:

So if anyone ever tells you that there are not gay animals you can point them in this direction, pointing out that a gay animal himself posted a video of other gay animals doing the nasty.

Okay. He is just too cute for words.

My mother and sister both have this bizarre and impossibly cute way of calling their dogs “little.” They baby talk and say “You are just little! You are just so little!” to the dogs. Of course I picked the this up and as a result Kevin picked this up, and now we call Feynman “Little” so much now that he will come when called either “Feynman,” “Feyny,” or “Little.” A corollary to the Rule of Little is that Kevin and I now call one another “Big,” which of course confuses the hell out of people who have no idea what we are talking about. Which is most people.

Here’s Kevin & Feynman:

Here’s Feynman with his upper lip caught underneath his lower teeth, which just kills me:

Here’s Feynman with his crazy long hair, and Kevin in the background with various Cat5 and USB cables draped around his neck for no apparent reason:

Here’s Feynman humping his good bitchfriend Eika:

Here’s Feynman with a ball in his mouth. I wonder where he learned that?

And finally here’s Feynman with his new haircut:

Oymygod I am just such a gay dad.

This picture is of my dog Feynman, named after the late, great physicist, adventurer, and all around great man Richard Feynman, a guy I greatly admire. In fact I would say that he is one of the people I look up to most in the world. (Who says we don’t have heroes anymore?)

Anyway, while he’s not an expert on quantum electrodynamics, our own Shih Tzu version of Mr. Feynman is just about as smart as dogs come. He also has a penchant for leaping off of things and being very dramatic about it. The picture itself is linked to a bigger, uncropped version that is even more cute, with him attempting to leap on to my face. Barf now if you want to.

I just love the little guy to death.