Tis the Season to Get Neutered

Dear Diary,

The dog got neutered last week, and with the operation came all kinds of questions. Basically I said that he got his balls removed so that he wouldn't have babies--blunt perhaps, but that's me. Ok, I did cutesy it up just a bit referring to them as his "Christmas balls," along with a round of "Tis the season to get neutered," just to soften the blow and prevent the little ones from having night terrors.

Of course the kids gave all kinds of pro-life arguements trying to convince me that a life with 101 Retreivers would be the best life there is, but I didn't buy it for a minute. So, Digger went under the knife and came home two balls short of a toolbox.

Things have started to return back to normal around here. Digger is leaping all over the place, his appetite has returned, and he's enjoying the pillows a little less than he used to.

Graham came up to me as I was setting the table, "Mom what if I decide not to get married?" he asked.

"Well that's fine," I said as I laid down a plate, "you could live with Dad and I."

"But what about my balls?" he asked looking down at his Bum Equipment from Wal-Mart, while I choked on a breadstick.

"Uh... what about your balls?"

"Can I get them removed?"

"You want to get neutered?" I asked trying to swallow my grin.

"Yeah, like Digger!"

Of course I did the only thing I could do at that point. I gave all kinds of pro-life arguements trying to convince him that life with 101 Kids would be the best life there is.

He didn't buy it for a minute.

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