I always start my day the same way: by telling my dog—a gorgeous corgi-schnauzer-greyhound mix—that he is the sweetest little boy in the world. But everyone makes mistakes, and today, I made a big one. I woke up late, the stock market had taken a plunge, my mother-in-law was in elective cosmetic surgery, and I forgot, okay? I forgot to praise my dog for being sweet and kind and before I knew it, he was gone. It was too late: He had joined the Bikin’ Gangers, a notorious biker gang.
Someone, anyone, help!
You have to believe me that he’s a sweetie. He loves walks, cuddles, shmoofs (another name for cuddles), and garumphs (another name for shmoofs). He would never partake in this organized crime syndicate if I had remembered to call him my “perfect little poo poo” this morning. Instead, he was forced to seek love somewhere else: deep in the throes of the American underbelly.
I tried to get him back, but by the time I found him he had become the Bikin’ Gangers’ leader, and they wouldn’t let me anywhere close. As I was dragged away, I caught a glimpse of him taking a hit of a doobie, both arms around two smokin’ hot poodles. He’s not even old enough to date yet!
SOMEONE DO SOMETHING!
“NOOO,” I yelled, “Not my son! My best little boy!” One of the bikers told me this was a “cringe” thing to call my dog, but I was beside myself with grief.
Even though my first attempt to free him failed, I am determined not to give up, not on my Itsy Bitsy Pissing Monster (that’s his favorite nickname). I’ve tried to remember the good things—how much he loves fetching and riding motorcycles, which in retrospect, should’ve been a red flag. In my mind’s eye, he doesn’t wear a leather jacket with the Bikin’ Gangers’ logo; he wears a sweet little dog sweater from The Gap. And earmuffs also from The Gap. He loves The Gap!
It’s time to bring my snugglemuffin home!
Now there’s only one thing left to do: join the gang myself and take it down from the inside. I’ve left all my worldly possessions with my mother, who has assured me that “one dog is not worth risking a life-threatening excursion into a violent biker gang,” but she doesn’t get it. He’s not just a dog. He’s a dog that I’ve had for a few years.
For now, I go to seek a Great Perhaps. Onward to salvation!
