There comes a time in every pet owner’s life when a decision must be made. No, not the “old age filled with arthritis or euthanasia” decision, but the “neuter or not” decision. Now most of you would go along with good old Bob “The Price is Right” Barker and say that there is no question and send the dog off to surgery. I however, am having quite the dilemma with my toddler of a mini schnauzer. Allow me to explain.
I have watched my dog grow from infancy. I watched as he took his first dump, ate his first dump and yes, watched as his minuscule testicles dropped. Now listen, I am not a pervert (well, no more than anyone else) but I have a confession to make: I love my dog’s balls. There, I said it. Get over it. I love that he has them and I feel that we connect on some deeper level because we both have something in common. When my male roommates and I are in the room along with the little feller, you can taste the testosterone in the air. The balls are cute and fuzzy, and their dangle is not at all offensive. Nevertheless, the debate rages in my head, so lets examine the pros and cons.
Ask any guy and he will sympathize with dogs that have been neutered. It’s just not cool. Speaking on my dog specifically, removing his balls would be like removing the smile from the Mona Lisa. It’s hard to draw comparisons, but ladies, try to imagine if at puberty your parents had your boobs cut off to keep you calm and to prevent you from having babies. You wouldn’t like that would you? Only after considering these painful thoughts does my mind remain steadfast in my decision to not neuter the little guy. It just isn’t natural. I hate to use such a redneck explanation, but if the powers that be had intended for dogs not to have balls, then they would have been born without them in the first place. Also, in the slight case that I decide to stud out the little stud, I would prefer to have the proper equipment.
On the other side of this whole thing is the fact that the world does not need more dogs, even if they are cute mini schnauzers. The dog won’t really be affected by it and it’s not like he is going to hold a grudge against me. However, I will always feel guilty when I look down at the scars that are in place of cute furry balls. It is supposed to make the dog more calm and docile, but anyone who knows my dog knows that he is so calm and lethargic he probably slips in and out of comas daily. A strong point that is rapidly approaching is the annoying nature the balls could present in the near future. I don’t want household furniture or any guests’ legs becoming his next hot date.
Most importantly though is my resolve to Bob Barker. I don’t want to let Bob down; his show rules and he called Adam Sandler a bitch. Just awesome. I just never thought that Bob was talking to me. Until now.
I am perplexed. I am sure that if you’re still reading you think I am a total freak. Well, you can go to hell, thank you very much. If nothing else, I have accomplished saying balls on this page more than any sex columnist ever could. Not to mention all the wonderful visuals of those little round bastards I have provided you with. I know what is probably going to happen, but I am having a tough time dealing with it. The dog is too goddamn cute and the decision is killing me. It’s like I have an angel and a devil sitting on my shoulders, except they are Bob Barker and my dog’s balls. I’ll tell you one thing, come this holiday season, Santa Claus may be bringing my puppy an extra special kind of gift, if you know what I mean.
For a better description of Daily Nexus Assistant Artsweek Editor Harrison Coulton’s dog’s balls, please log on to www.myspace.com/dexnuts.