A Dog Day Afternoon

15_year_old_golden_retriever

“Don’t cry for me Argentina, I have lived a life better than over 98% of North Korea.”

It was weird. I was at the animal shelter against my better judgment. Currently, I was standing still on a broken treadmill, not even pretending to move forward, surrounded by a sea of depression. My girlfriend, Lori, left me for an older man. In most cases, it wouldn’t matter who it was, but here, in the now; it was fucking Don Henley. Yes, the very same drummer/vocalist of Eagles fame. Yet, I digress.


My friends insisted that I needed to save a dog, put purpose back into my despondent state. As the privileged kids say, I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. But Jesus Christ, I can barely take care of myself. My kitchen sink is overflowing with dishes collecting disturbing grime.

I was interrupted by an intrusive thought, “Take me home. I will change your pathetic life for the better. I guarantee it.” It sounded suspiciously like Danny DeVito combined with a TV personal injury lawyer.

I looked around for the source. My eyes rested on the oldest golden retriever I’ve ever seen.

“This was not happening, but if it is, blink three times to prove this wacky mind meld.”

Three blinks later, I am shaking my head like a man stranded in a desert assessing an oasis. “My God, you can barely stand. You’re lying in your own feces. How the fuck old are you?”

“I am seventeen of your years, 119 of mine.”

“Sorry, not interested.”

“Looks are deceiving, and you need to know this, I am the Benjamin Button of dogs. You should have seen me two days ago.” It either coughed or laughed.

“Get the fuck out! That’s my favorite movie. How did you know?”

“I know things. How cool is it that we can communicate like this? I mean, us talking to each other? That’s huge.”

My mind was reeling. This was my golden ticket. I was finally going to be on The Ellen Show.

Hours later, after all the paperwork, I was the proud owner of Rufus. After carrying the stinky greasy dog home, I set it down on the floor. It looked around, then up at me, “Sorry dude, I lied.”

As if to punctuate this admission, Rufus demonstrated explosive diarrhea all over everything I considered valuable, which I admit was completely my fault, I should not have piled my prized possessions on the floor like that. Live and learn, I guess.

Before heaving its last breath, “Thanks for not letting me die in that hell hole.”

I swear to God, Rufus winked before shutting its eyes forever.

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