Mr. Sprinkles (3WW)

As we're beginning to swing into the holiday spirit around our house, we've slowly but surely been putting up decorations and buying some new outdoor lights.  We're getting new outdoor lights because my dear retarded dog Einstein ate the last set we had outside.

That's right folks...the son of a bitch (literally in this case) ate the damn lights.

Bastard...(again, likely the case)

Anyway, the Wife (I've given up on the Translator thing...several readers have deemed her Wife instead) put up some new decorations outside, while I was reveling in the glory that is the new World of Warcraft expansion.  So around nightfall as a dutiful husband I was required to go see and applaud her effort.

While we were outside one of our neighbor's cats came up for a visit.  Though we've lived in this house for almost a year now this is the first time any of the neighborhood cats have come up to say Hai.

Let me tell you, I'm generally a dog person, but this is one cute mother fucking cat.  I mean he's got some series skills.  I reached down a little to pat him on the head a little (I love all animals after all...except hamsters, fuck hamsters) and he jumped up a little and petted his head against my hand.

Instantly I felt sorry for the little guy, like he doesn't get any loving at home, so he trolls the streets looking for a friendly pet.

So the petting continued as we were trying to make some plans for other outside decorations for the year.  I thought the little guy needed a name so I deemed him Mr. Sprinkles.

Now, I'm not one to judge...ok ok, that's bullshit.  Judging is what I do...

Anyway, I really don't love the idea of someone leaving their pet outside all the time.  Especially a cat who is totally capable of jumping the fence and escaping.  It seems pretty cruel to me, but than again any pet I've ever had has been like a member of the family.  Even the rodenty ones.

Back to the Wife...by this time she's practically rocking like she's autistic of some shit and chanting to herself that "We can't feed Mr. Sprinkles."  The crafty little sucker even tried to come in the house with us when we went in.

That would have been the mistake of the day for Mr. Sprinkles.  Would have made one entertaining ass children's books though.  Something like Mr. Sprinkles Meets the Playful Retard Dogs that Don't Understand the Concept of Weight Ratios.  Yeah I think that sounds about right.

They'd have crushed him within 20 minutes.  All from innocent playing mind you.  Einstein would be either trying to mount him/her (it just dawned on me that I didn't look and Mr. Sprinkles could just as easily be Ms.) or he'd be trying to find the squeaker inside.  Franklin would likely thing he/she was a rope toy and try and break his/her neck.  All in good fun mind you.  Isn't that what your dog does?

So I hope you find safety Mr/Ms. Sprinkles.  You're a cute little son of a bitch, I don't think you'll have too many issues.