Deuce, the Devil's Puppy

As I’ve matured, I’ve found that I have a much easier time keeping my patience (ok, maybe the credit should go to the Effexor I take, but whatever). But, outside of CNN and MSNBC, which I assiduously avoid, there is one thing that tries my patience more than anything else.



Deuce.

Yes, that’s right, Deuce, our sweet-looking, loveable little Silky Terrier. Mr. I Love Everyone, Let Me Give You Kisses.

Satan’s appointed canine on Earth.

It’s not enough that Deuce poops in the house (Martin did that before he him, for 16 years, and Sonny does too, so whaddyagonnado?); it’s not enough that his bark is a high-pitched shriek that could wake the dead. Nope, he’s also adventurous and perpetually horny.

Ok, the horny thing is our fault, because we should have gotten him neutered by now. But we’re trying to breed him, since purebred Silkys can make beaucoup bucks in stud fees. Problem is, Deuce has yet to figure out exactly where to put Appendage A.

Well, that’s what we thought, until yesterday.

Momma Pug got home well before I did and opened the door. Deuce, as he always is, was waiting at the door. But, in a change, he didn’t jump up in adoration – he hauled ass out the door.

Now, he does this on occasion. Actually more than on occasion, more like three times a week. He always gets his ass beat, so you think he’d get the point by now. But, I guess in the mind of a puppy, no guts, no glory. And certainly no ass.

Well, off Deuce goes, down the street. Momma Pug follows and sees him squeeze through a crack into someone else’s backyard. This is new – why’d he do that?

Probably because there was a poodle bitch in heat in the backyard, ready to stick her ass up in the air and let Von Deucer take a crack at the big time.

By the time Momma Pug figured out that she could get in the backyard and not get shot since the neighbors weren’t home, Deuce had driven for glory and scored.

Momma Pug grabbed Deuce, beat his ass and informed him that he wasn’t claiming those children on his tax returns.

So, that would teach him a lesson, right? Ha! You know not my dog.

This morning, I put Deuce and Rippy in the back yard to go to the bathroom. 15 minutes later, I went to get them, and Rippy obediently came to the door. No Deuce.

Now, I knew the gate to the yard was locked. The busted pieces of fence were in place, so he couldn’t have gotten through. But, somehow, he was gone. Vanished.

Momma Pug called her ride to work and waved him off. I went over to the neighbors in a pair of shorts, flip flops and my glasses to see if he’d somehow gotten into their yard. No dice. Or Deuce.

So we checked his House of Pleasure. No poodle, no puppy. WTF?

I walk back inside to put in my contacts, and who’s sitting at the back door?

You got it. Deuce.

It would suffice to say he got another asswhipping, but I really, REALLY want to know where the hell he went.

Would you like for him to come to your house? He’s available.