Humor
Why Is No One Impressed by My Dog’s Giant Ball Sack?
Or mine, for that matter
My boy Ajax (a gorgeous Chihuahua-Pit Bull mix) has the most voluptuous pair on him that I’ve ever seen. Rottweilers, Great Danes, even that gigundo mutt in “Beethoven’s Fifth,” have testes that look like driveway gravel next to his grapefruits. And when people see enormous, manly balls on a dog, they know his owner has ’em too. Or they would, if anyone ever stopped to appreciate them.
Forget our snow globe gonads for a second; I put a lot of effort into making us street ready in other ways. I spray Ajax with dog cologne so lady dogs will let him hump them, and I wear Armani Private Parts (ninety-five dollars a bottle) for pretty much the same reason. But neither of us get a lick of female attention! I did have one lady cough a bunch and ask, “what the fuck are you wearing,” but that didn’t really count. ‘Cause she was old, probably thirty or something.
We also like to sport matching sweatsuits, to display our athletic mojo. We look dynamite, strutting down the street with our testes swinging in tandem under identical fleece joggers. But so far, the only acknowledgement we’ve gotten was from a bodega clerk who yelled out “what is this, the USSR Olympic team?!” We were very, very pleased to be mentioned in the same sentence as the Olympics.
I got so sick of most people ignoring us, I started walking Ajax off-leash. I wanted my neighbors to be in awe of my total command over him. I still carry the leash though, ’cause it’s Gucci. Everyone wants to own Gucci.
These power walks were going okay ‘til last Tuesday when he jumped on a toddler. Before you judge, the guy was shooting us dirty looks! I would’ve done the same thing if I wasn’t afraid of ruining my Supremes. So, in a way, Ajax did exactly what I wanted him to do.
Man, I’m really at a loss. If having an aggressive, sporty dog with giant testicles doesn’t garner me the positive attention I deserve, I don’t know what will. But I do know one thing: We’ll have our big, beautiful nuts until the day(s) we die. And even afterwards, cause I have a cousin on Long Island who does taxidermy.
