My brother and sister-in-law asked me to watch their dog this past weekend. I almost refused on the grounds that he (my brother or the dog, take your pick) is a whiny jerk whom I find repugnant. I ended up doing it because I figured I could at least eat all their food.

The dog’s name is Fleischmann. Actually it’s Flash Man (I’m not making that up) but that’s not a real name so I call him Fleischmann, which I feel is more appropriate as it carries a bit of cache. Flash Man is a name that a 17 year old sex offender with a meth habit gives himself, whereas Fleischmann could be a banker or diamond merchant (stereotyping is wrong) or the owner of a delicatessen.

Things didn’t start well. Fleischmann distrusts me because I think it’s hilarious to scare the shit out of him. In my defense, it’s really, really funny. He can’t run very fast due to his girth and short legs. He also can’t run very far, so he just scampers a few yards and then peers back at you, eyes glazed with fear and distrust. But I figured if the weekend was going to be any fun at all, I would have to befriend the beast.

When Fleischmann’s owners are gone he grows despondent and refuses to eat. I fed him pizza to combat this malaise, and afterward he stopped hiding in the bedroom. He moved out to the far end of the couch, where he alternated between sleeping and looking at me suspiciously. I eventually won him over by scratching the fleshy place where his balls used to be.

I swear, that dog has the biggest taint. It’s unreal. His body is well under two feet long, but the strip between his anus and wang is like eight inches. I estimate it’s about a 1:5 gooch to body length ratio. That’s gotta be some kind of record. And due to his ludicrous proportions he can’t reach it at all, so he loves to have it scratched. When he wants it itched he struggles up onto the couch and just backs that thing right up to his victims face. Actually that’s true of most of his body. He can’t really reach any of himself.

His odd dimensions lead to a host of problems. He can’t swim because his enormous head is roughly as dense as the earth’s core, and he can’t keep his nose up high enough to breath. He can’t jump or run in any legitimate way, he overheats whenever the temperature climbs into the high 60’s, and when he gets excited or exhausted his tongue swells up, threatening to block his airway and deprive his gigantic chode of oxygen.

He also suffers from something called Seasonal Flank Alopecia, which means his hair falls out when he’s too warm, and that’s always. Bulldogs are often afflicted because they’re not technically dogs. The breed was created in a lab in the late 1970’s, when fast food scientists, in an attempt to create a more profitable form of livestock, combined bovine DNA with that of a hippopotamus and then injected the resultant genetic cocktail into an applewood-smoked pork sausage. Expose that sausage to enough gamma radiation and you get a bulldog. Scientists used to love gamma radiation.

Worst of all, his oddly twisted “tail” blocks off his colon, so he can’t drop a deuce without soiling himself. After every crap you have to cleanse his ass with Pampers baby wipes. It’s horrifying.

He shits, and when he comes inside I say “Fleischmann! Let’s do butts!” That’s his cue to turn all that poop-stained taint towards me. He stands there, looking over his shoulder expectantly as he waits for me to rub his anus with a damp towel. I took before and after pictures of the towel, but I’ll spare you.

But I will show you the actual wiping

The ass-wiping finally gained his complete trust. After that we were hangin’ out tough. We went for a walk, which is fun because everyone smiles and laughs when they see him. Later I dressed him up in some of my brother’s clothes. For obvious reasons.

He’s actually a pretty cool dog. Don’t tell anyone I said that.

When I started writing this I was concerned it wouldn’t fit in with the ‘shame’ theme. Then I realized I was all alone playing dress up with another man’s dog.

Gotta be a little shame in there somewhere.