Smelly Dog

I've been complaining about how bad our dog (Fred) has been smelling lately and this morning it reached the highest level of skunkdom. I was leisurely enjoying my coffee and newspaper when my nostrils filled with Fred's foul odor, and that was all she wrote. I put him outside, and hoped that his stink wouldn't disrupt the equilibrium of the neighborhood. Everything was fine until Ron joined me in the kitchen. Even after I explained why I put the dog outside, the moment Fred scratched at the door, Ron got up to let him in. That's when I went on tilt.

Me: "Don't let him in! Didn't I just tell you that he stinks?"

Ron: "You have no compassion for that dog. He's fine. He just smells like a dog."

Me: "I just put him outside, I didn't kill him. I didn't want him to ruin my morning ambiance with his disgusting odor. And by the way, I think he may be in the first stages of dementia. He's been acting very weird. Maybe it's time to start looking for a nursing home."

Ron: "You're very funny."

Me: "Or, maybe we can wait a while and I can find a home that'll take you both. A package deal as it were."

Ron: "That'd be fine."

Me: "I'll come visit."

Ron: "Call first."

Me: "And just to show that I do have compassion, I'll be sure and check the DO NOT RESUSCITATE box for both of you."

Ron: "I feel the love."

Me: "I'm a frickin' saint."