Shady Jack is an awesome dog. He’s loving, adorable, and looks great in Matt’s t-shirts. In addition to being a fashionista, he’s also a super hero. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not a creepy super hero that wears a unitard and saves a city from crime.
(Seriously Batman, you can call it a Bat suit if you want, but we all know it’s a unitard…and I can see your junk in it.) Shady Jack isn’t one of those cape wearing dogs. Rather, he’s a dog with a nose for safety. Or maybe a penis for safety… Let me explain…
My amazing friend Top Chef, (not her real name), was playing in a local presentation of Avenue Q. She played the sexy puppet (duh) and a big group of us were excited to see her in action. (I was doubly excited because it was a dinner theater and mama likes to eat while she’s entertained.)
The show was out of town so we planned a caravan to get the party started early. We were super pumped. And then Jack’s penis happened.
A few hours before the party van was set to depart, (and as my vodka was chilling in the icebox) I noticed that Shady Jack’s junk was bleeding and when he peed, there was blood. No, I don’t regularly make a habit of looking at his junk, but when it’s bright red, one stops to take notice.
I did what anyone would do in this situation: I stared at his junk to find the cause of the bleeding and then called the vet. We made an appointment and brought him in for further evaluation of his junk.
We subsequently discovered that he wasn’t dying of kidney failure, diabetes or cancer, (as I had suspected.) Rather, he had a gash on his penis.
I have no idea how it happened and I would prefer not to know. We were given ointment for his junk, told to apply it regularly, and sent home amidst some very uncomfortable jokes about penis cream and masturbation (most of the jokes were made by yours truly).
In all of the penis drama, we had to cancel our trip with our friends. We didn’t want to, but Shady Jack’s junk came first and we had to make sure he was okay. We were devastated to miss our fun day, but happy to know Jack’s junk would live another day (where it would lay around on our furniture and creep us out regularly).
Since we live in an old neighborhood, the electrical wires are attached to the outside of our house where they connect to other wires. The other wires go to a mysterious place where something magical is done and electricity is born. It’s super complicated and although I understand all of it in detail, it’s probably above your heads so I will spare you the confusion of further explanation.
The wire appeared to be hanging to the house by nothing more than a breath and a prayer (much like Christina Aguilera’s singing career). Naturally, I freaked out and made Matt call the electric company immediately to advise of our impending electrocution.
They said they would be out as soon as possible, which I knew meant I would see them later in the week. We watched and waited, going back and forth between Shady Jack’s junk, and the dangling wire. It was a fun Saturday. Whenever the dogs had to go outside, I made sure the wire hadn’t fallen to the ground, where it would create a hotbed of electricity and electrocute us all. (Those are technical terms.)
The next morning the electric company arrived to evaluate the problem. Finally! I was so tired of wearing rubber soled shoes to avoid electrocution and the dogs were sick of going out the front door to do their business to avoid electric shock.
The company employee arrived and moved at a slow pace, obviously not understanding the pertinence of the situation. He walked around to the backyard, took one look at the wire and gave his assessment.
I prepared myself mentally. I figured it was a problem that would be pricey to fix, and one that could be dangerous and send volts of electricity through the house. I held my breath. And then he said it.
“Um, that’s a cable wire. You should call your cable company and they will reattach it.”