I fear my relationship with my dog may be forever altered. She crossed a boundary yesterday and I don’t think I can be comfortable anymore. Also, I should have handled the situation better because I think the kids now think I am psychotic with a hair trigger between fun-normal dad and shoe throwing lunatic.

Everything started around dinner time which means all of the girls and I have our seats on the couch while we watched The Thundermans and Henry Danger. Judy Cornbread was feeling extra puppy-like and trying to play with her extra-long-used-to-be-stuffed fox. She would try to play and I would shoo her away. We repeated this every five minutes. On the last round of Judy’s offer to play she laid the sad limbless fox on my lap. I was distracted by the clever antics of Max Thunderman and Judy Cornbread thought better of leaving the fox unattended in my lap.

She grabbed the fox and in the process managed to clamp down on a rather sensitive area. In about 50 milliseconds, I had what could be described as a “stress reaction”. Something about my vibe, and demon-possessed rise from the couch, signaled to Judy that she should probably leave the country. I’m not sure of the obscenities I slurred or how it must have looked for me to be running across the room while looking into my pants to make sure I had the all-clear but somehow they bought the story that Judy had nipped at my leg and I was merely angry at her.

Luckily there was no problem beyond an uncomfortable pinch and a lingering awkwardness. I haven’t set out to write much lately and it is odd that this story makes the cut. I feel weird even typing it but one day in the future I might have forgotten this transgression and perhaps I can smile.

If your dog has accidentally bitten your junk, this post is for you. You’re welcome. I’ll explain the smiley-faced ball that I used for the cover photo in my next post. It was unrelated. I didn’t figure I could post any image that would be relevant.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.