The product actually has a vulgarity meaning semen in its name. That dog is disturbingly enthusiastic and performing a pelvic thrust behind a modesty curtain. "Playful," it says. Right. "Playful." That ain't what the missus calls it. And remember, this is a chew toy. At some point you pick up the phallic object with your hand and place it in the mouth of a dog. This is not something classy people do, I'm telling you. The dollar store can teach us many valuable lessons about graphic design and packaging, and their relationship to barely-concealed cartoon dog boners.
So the other day, I'm in bed editing when the missus calls out, "When they fix dogs, they cut the testicles off, right?"
"That would be it."
She then addressed our new puppy in a disconcertingly cheerful tone. "Snip-snip, Laszlo!"
"Jesus fucking Christ, don't talk to a male that way!"
"snip-snip, laszlo -- snip-snip!"
There was a relish in her voice that I did not like. I've noticed this from certain women at certain times -- a tendency to find entertainment in the possibility of male genital mutilation. They can leave one with a suspicion that the nut-cutting might start at any moment.
Getting a kick out of fixing the dog is an excellent argument for misogyny, but the bull-penis phase was a better one. That's right, she fed the dogs bull penis. Watching the woman giggle as her brutes tore into their stinking chunks of choad did not make my life seem less weird.
And now Spunkeez. It's as though she can't feed anything to the dogs but dick. I mean, this is silly, right? I'm blowing things out of proportion, looking at them the wrong way.
Still. It makes me feel a little nervous.