The Butt-hole Dog. I did not adopt—I shopped for this little dink-dog. I screwed this one up from the start. We didn’t need another dog. We had Molly. Well, Jamie had Molly. Long before me, long before the boys. They were a package deal, a couple, dinner for two, etc…As a mom of 3 and a retail manager, I can tell you that I needed NOTHING else to take care of. But here we are. I went to visit this dog, went against my gut when my son fell in love with a different puppy, and on October 26, I brought home the cutest little fluffball, Duke. This little bastard puked and shit in my car on the two-hour drive home and I still kept driving east. He has teethed on everything we own. He has bitten our Molly to the point of infection, he has humped us all. He has no sense of personal space. He takes food from all of our plates. This dog is small and displays every characteristic of short-man syndrome. He is a friendly and loving yet self-righteous, entitled, cocky little asshole. Even after being fixed (I swear its worse now). Duke’s surgery was last Tuesday, and he is still wearing his cone. The first morning he nearly destroyed it trying to get to his man-hood. The cone is now bedazzled with a serious amount of electrical tape which has not deterred him. He has reached the promised land—he is licking himself right now. I can’t even call the vet to tell her—what would I possibly say? “Hello, my little butt-hole of a dog has gone off the rails and is licking his balls or whatever is left down there while we speak”, or “no, I cannot possibly bring him back to you because he puked twice in my car on the way to surgery. And then he was so traumatized after surgery, that he did manage to throw up two more times on the way home despite not having eaten for 24 hours—which I thought would be impossible but being the determined little dink he is, he found a way to dredge up the bile that was likely on its way to the small intestine because it smelled like festering shit and vomit all in one.”  I can’t put this on the good vet, but I will forever maintain that this is 100% true and I thank all my lucky stars that baking soda got out that smell—the smell that created an episode of Seinfeld. The smell that is the epitome of this little butthole dog.  I friggin love this dog. Cyr-iously. I love this little dog.