No Dogs Allowed
b'As I have mentioned, I am not in the dog house with my Lady Wonder Wench. I am, instead, sitting here in my big, comfortable, manly, black leather poppa chair in my living room. I am not in the dog house, because we don\'t have a dog. And at the possible cost of being placed on the neighborhood terrorist watch list, I don\'t want a dog...ever again. \\n\\tI had a couple of very bad dog experiences, and I\'ve never fully gotten over them. My buddy Al has a dog named Ike. He often says Ike is like one of the family. I know Al\'s family, and I don\'t know which one Ike is like. Ike is part boxer, which probably explains the fact that every time the doorbell rings, he trots over to the corner, sits down, and wags his tail. Ike, not Al. \\n\\tIke is overweight, but he doesn\'t like the diet pills al got from the vet so Al hides them in his ice cream. Ike\'s ice cream. My Lady Wonder Wench had a dog when I met her. Her dog was a Border Collie she called "Lady." Lady didn\'t like me because although Ms. Wench was a very attentive dog owner, she was an even more attentive Dick owner. That doesn\'t sound right. What I mean is my name is Dick, and...well you understand.'