How many calories is a wiener dog?

Calvin has crapped out as my workout partner. The above picture is a daily scene of him burrowing under the bed, waiting until he thinks I’ve left, and then poking out his nose to make sure before rolling on his back and eating a bag of Ruffles by himself.

Someone must have told him that no one expects a puppy to have a ripped chest and that he will be loved and fawned over regardless. Apparently I’m not so lucky and insist on bringing everyone down with me. The newf hates my guts for pointing out every moment that he is not burning calories (“Nothing tastes as good as thin feels”). No one ever said being sexy is fun! NO ONE!

[Since when is it not good enough to be slim? Since when is David Beckham the standard for what guys have to look like? SCREW YOU, BECKHAM!]

Back to the pooch. He has been let off the hook for exercise for the past few days as the wind threatened to blow him into the harbour. That would make me sad. Today we were back at it and he did pretty well. He stopped once or twice to see if I’d let him turn around and go back home but no dice. He makes me clean up after his weekend of stomach-sickery…I make him run his ass off outdoors.

He has reverted back to his quiet, pleasant demeanor now that we’re back at the apartment and he no longer gets to terrorize my poor brother by waiting outside of his room in case he should even think of moving….What’s worse? A puppy keeping tabs on a 25-year-old man, or a 25-year-old man who gives in to the puppy’s nazi regime?

On that note, visit this website for hilarious doggie dictator propaganda.