Doc and I were waiting at the vet the other day for my monthly pedicure, when a four-legged furry object emerged from the doctor’s office. What threw me off was the plastic cone around his neck. He looked like a space alien dog, so I did what I always do when I feel scared, I backed up and let out a quiet low growl.

Realizing it was just a dog I asked him, “Why are you wearing that cone around your neck?”  A look of shame flushed across his face and as he turned away from me he replied, ” They altered my manhood.” “OMG, they do that thing around here, what kind of sick place is this?” At that moment, the cone-wearing dog looked down between my legs and said “dude, your manhood has been altered too.”

With that one statement, I felt myself slipping into an altered state of reality and almost fainted. When I was able to compose myself I turned, looked at Doc in the eye and said, “Did you know about this?”

It was the first time I ever heard her stammer. ” You were just a puppy and they put you to sleep first, I did it because I didn’t want you to get another dog pregnant. It’s not like we need more unwanted puppies in the world.” Then Doc dropped her head oh so slightly and said ” I’m sorry Grover, I should have told you.”

I couldn’t believe she kept something that important from me. Our relationship is supposed to be based on trust. At that moment I started to wonder, what else has she kept from me? It was if Doc was reading my mind when she said, ” That’s the only thing I never talked to you about, I just thought you were too young to understand. From now on, no more secrets.”

The vet, who had been listening in on our conversation said ” If you’re interested Grover, they do make prosthetic replacements.” And with that, Doc and I looked at each other, wished him a good day and left.

You would think that after years of observing Doc doing therapy, I would have developed a better sense of judgment when it comes to reading other’s intentions. But, just like you humans, I got caught up in my emotions, didn’t listen to my instincts and ran right toward disaster.

Her name was Vixen and that should have been my first warning. I was smitten from the moment I saw her. She sauntered in the front door of Doc’s house like she owned the place with her tail and nose high in the air.

Doc hadn’t told me that her niece was bringing an over night guest of the four-legged variety, so I was thrown off guard. Her beautiful legs and sleek fur were enhanced by a cute little face and ears that slightly turned down. It started out innocently enough by running and romping outside and soon she was letting me chew on her leg while she bit my neck.

We were together for three days and I used my best moves to win her over. Soon she submitted to my romantic ways and I knew she was mine. An added bonus was that since she was a Pit Bull, I knew she would give this designer dog some “street cred.” It was a perfect union and I was smitten.

Early one morning after breakfast, her humans began packing their suitcases and moving them out to the car. I saw them hug Doc and thank her for her hospitality. Then, they put the leash on Vixen’s collar and walk toward the front door. I could feel my heart pounding in panic. That Vixen walked out of the house and out of my life without even a goodbye or a glance back at me. I stood watching out the window, heartbroken as she drove away.

Doc looked at me with compassion, kissed me on top of the head and said “be careful about giving your heart away too fast Grover, it’s always better to take it slow. “Another life lesson learned; never trust a dog named Vixen from Michigan.

The holidays are over and I am feeling blah. Even Doc is lying around like an old rag doll looking frayed at the seams. All the glitz, glitter, good food, family and rushing around are over. What’s a dog to do? The new year means a clean slate and new beginnings, so I have decided to chase away the blues by learning something new.

With Doc’s help, I get on the computer to see what interests me. While searching, I come across a web site where you fill out a form that will narrow down your interests and point you toward a rewarding hobby.

The first part of the form is easy. Name, age and sex . Then the form asks me to list my interests. Now that stumps me, but Doc says “what do you do all day when I am gone, just list that”. What does she think I do when she’s not around, take classes at the local craft store? ” So I type in; peeing on fire hydrants, sleeping, eating, barking at the UPS man and patrolling for varmints in the yard. The last part of the form asks me questions like; To relieve stress you__, The one thing you could not live without on a desert island is___.

After completing the form, I push the submit button and the results of the survey appear, reporting the following; For you life is a journey, you take time to smell every single rose. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but that makes you tick. You may like hobbies like archaeological digs, botany or meditation.

I was surprised by how accurate the report was. I do like to smell everything as I am curious about what people have in their purses and pockets. I have tried archaeology in Doc’s back yard digging holes and I love to pee on plants. I also enjoy meditating by napping most of the day.

Excited, I decide it’s important to focus on just one hobby, so I set up an archaeological dig site in the yard complete with tent and tools to see what I can find. I even enlist one of the backyard squirrels as my assistant. I start my first dig on a cold wet January day. Everything is going quite swimmingly when suddenly I hear this awful sound coming from inside the house. I look up to see Doc’s contorted face pressed up against the window. I know that look; I guess it’s time to switch hobbies.