My lesbian dog teaches me a lesson

I was napping on the floor with my lesbian dog this afternoon and let me stop right there. It seems like whenever I mention my lesbian dog, someone will email me and say I should stop picking on lesbians. I never respond to those sorts of inflammatory emails, but let me just say this about that, my dog is a proud out lesbian and I have no problem with that. She gets mail addressed to Lesbian Dog, so give me a break.

As my lesbian dog and I were napping on the floor we heard some keys at the front door and neither of us had realized how long we had been napping and my youngest daughter was home from school. To me, this is really not that big of a deal, but to my lesbian dog you may have just called and told her she won the Nobel Peace Prize, because she literally lost her shit once she heard the jingling of the keys.

She was up in an instant, running for the door, back to me, as I began to sit up on the floor in the living room. Then she would spring back to the front door, push her nose against the window and run back to me in an instant. When the door opened my lesbian dog was all over my daughter who had trouble setting her backpack down because of the wildly acrobatic movements of the exuberant and out of control dog. Her dog spine was twisting in a series of yoga-type movements that I will only be able to do when the mobsters are stuffing my lifeless body into some bag before throwing me into a body of water somewhere.

I was now up and standing a few feet away and I mentioned to my daughter that the dog seems to think she was never going to return and my daughter looked at me with those dead eyes that only a teenage daughter can turn on a father and she said flatly, “maybe the dog loves me and is happy to see me.”

“Ouch,” I thought.

In an instant I was jumping up and down, running up to her and then far away, screaming and yelping and excited out of my mind just to see her. I ran back and my lesbian dog jumped in excitement too, she was in on my game, we were both overcome with incredible excitement to be in the presence of the return of my youngest daughter, it was, literally, a gift from the gods. I jumped, screamed out in excitement, danced around and ran into the dining room, overcome with pure adrenaline, my dog followed, turned on a dime and ran back to my daughter, I followed and when the dog jumped with glee because she saw my daughter, I did exactly the same thing, barely able to get the words out, “we are so incredibly excited to see you, when you left for school this morning, we weren’t sure you’d be coming back and now you’re here and it’s so great and we are so incredibly excited to see you…” all the while as I was spitting those words out my dog and I were jumping and dancing and terribly excited. Me and the lesbian dog could not stop running from one side of the kitchen to the next, jumping and turning and running into the dining room and sprinting back, just to let my youngest daughter know, we missed her so very much.

Then I had to stop because I thought I was in decent shape until I tried to do the welcome home ritual of my lesbian dog and I realized that even though she has put on some winter weight, she could be teaching some serious aerobics class, because my chest was throbbing and I could hardly take a breath. I leaned down and gave my lesbian dog a hug and she too was breathing heavily, but she looked at me and I looked at her and we both kind of held that look for a second, a look that said we had both accomplished something a little bit amazing, that welcome home ceremony. Well, amazing for a dog. I mean, come on it was really just random jumping and running, which for a dog is apparently a pretty big deal.

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