Someone wrote a comment asking what kind of dog that was in my wife's lap in the photo that so frightened me. That dog is a Pekingese named Sammy or, as I like to call him, eight pounds of bark. Before I started dating Wendy she told me she was looking at getting a dog. I brought her a book that discussed dog breeds and their intelligence. The next Monday she told me she had bought a dog. I asked her what kind and she said a Pekingese. I remembered that my grandmother and aunts had Pekingese dogs and that they were quite neurotic, at least around me.
I suggested to Wendy that we look up Pekingese in the book I had lent her to see where it ranked. The Pekingese ranked 70 out of 72 on the intelligence scale, that is, out of 72 dogs ranked, 69 were smarter than the Pekingese. I can attest to the fact that this ranking was either very kind to the Pekingese or dogs 71 and 72 must be sharing a brain between them. My wife's only response to the dog's inability to comprehend anything other than the magical, bouncing ball is that he's sweet.
This is the issue. The dog is disarmingly cute and everyone, especially women, instantly fall in love with him. Sammy understands this and loves women more than men and is constantly wondering how Wendy could have ever let me in the house. I've often wondered the same as it took me some time to discover that all of Wendy's pets (1 dog and 3 cats) were neutered males.
It's a good thing I'm comfortable with who I am or I'd be the neurotic one sleeping with one eye open. Anyway, that's Sammy.