I would though like to take a moment to sound off to some of you religious folks: When idiots claim something like this it makes the rest of you look retarded; and strengthens your sterotype even if the majority of you are fairly sound.

One afternoon my girlfriend Molly screwed up pretty bad and mis-vaccinated a booster bordetella to three dogs to include her own by giving them an intranasal dose as an subcutaneous vaccine. When this happens the animal has a 30 percent chance to die a horrible painful death of organ failure. The only humane thing you can do for an unlucky Fido at that point is to put him down early before the pain kicks in by monitoring blood work lab results.

While I didn’t really care about the two strays from her pet rescue organization, I was immediately concerned about the health of my girlfriend’s dog, Mona. Molly is more than attached to her. Mona, a rescue dog herself is the shining example of how a dog should behave, and besides, any death is hard on Molly. I couldn’t imagine what the reality of our relationship would be for the next few months so I decided to combat the stress and depression that was sure to shroud her following this potentially brewing disaster. If Mona was going to kick the can I would “accidently kill” her and let the girlfriend blame me. If she didn’t dump me, everything would be gravy. An angry redhead is better than an emo redhead any day of the week.

The plan unfolded quickly as I was at work. My supervisor. aka the “LT,” and I were on lunch dropping off some donations at St. Vincent DePaul’s when I told him about Mona’s possible fate.

Me: “That’s pretty screwed up if you ask me. You know what the worst part is? She always complains that I don’t listen enough and that I don’t have any compassion. Yeah, I’ll be upset her dog is gone but at the end of the day life goes on.”

LT: “Basically you’re fucked and it sucks to be you. That’s the thing with women you know. No matter what they do, it always turns around on you being the man. That’s the way of relationships.”

Me: “It seems like even though she potentially got her own dog killed she will blame me for it.”

LT: “Yup she will. You won’t be sad enough, you won’t be supportive enough or care enough, or she will just be bat ass crazy once the dog dies and be looking for fights. You might as well just go kill the dog and get it over with”

Me: “Holy shit. I could. I’ll take her to a vet and get some blood work done on her and if it looks like she’s going downhill I’ll kill her and take the blame. I could like accidently run her over or something. What if I had to run her over like 4 times to kill her, well I couldn’t do that it would be too brutal.”

LT: “Shoot her”

Me:” Just how is that going to work ass hat?

LT: “I don’t know. You’re trying to wax her not me.”

Me after a momentary pause: “We can shoot her. Look, let’s go shooting with one of your friends, how about that one that has the pistol range at his ranch? He can shoot her. We can make up a pretty good story. Your friend doesn’t know the dog is coming. Mona can be sitting in the back of the truck and suddenly she sees his cat and bolts after it. Your buddy thinking a stray is chasing his cat blasts her and that’s the story.”

LT: “WOW MARKS. JUST WOW”

The conversation ended at that point. Apparently I had just crossed some unknown line. I however had not stopped planning. I had to prepare for a possible alternate twist on the end of the world. Check her lab results with a blood draw before Molly did and save the girlfriend the horror of killing her own dog.

A few days later I was prepped. Mona was having irregular bowels. I suspected that she had peed on my rug in my room when she stayed over the night prior. I double checked up how to draw blood from a random Google results page, packed up a vial, syringe and a few miscellaneous trinkets I thought I would need from my medics bag and headed off to play my Thursday soccer game and of course more importantly spend the night at the girlfriends on my secret mission.

I drew her blood on Friday morning, which is the perfect time as Molly is a zombie between 6am and 9am. Nothing short of a sonic boom will rouse her. On my way back home I stopped in Woodburn at the veterinarian office I had selected. I didn’t think running a lab would be a big deal, but apparently they did. They were not a fan that it was my girlfriend’s dog. They were especially not a fan that the dog wasn’t with me. I wasn’t about to tell them I needed to screen the dog before my girlfriend did so that I could kill it by shooting it. Eventually they agreed. I paid them their standard fee and went on my merry way.

36 hours later I had my results. Mona was fine. She took her nasal spray in the ass like a champ. So did the other two dogs that were mistreated. Moral of the story: I’m prepared to take one for the team for those that I love.

My Misha monster at seven weeks.

My own attempt at one of the demotivational meme’s.

I’ve never met a guy who doesnt spill, so to combat asparagas smelling sickly bathroom, I put this sign up with the threat of physical abuse in my bathroom.