For all you breeders who have received gifts from me during the past 20 odd years, I’ve got one thing to say. Ante up bitches, I’m a mother.
Tex, my farting geezer foster American bulldog, has adopted me. Our six-week courtship was a blast and the experience made me realize I could handle going to the next level. While no dog will ever meet the hilarity and insanity of Kramer, my former funky hipster doophus schnauzer, Tex does fit my current lifestyle. He loves hiking, sleeping, and eating. The bonus is the old guy doesn’t bark. He is also quickly becoming the mayor of West Hollywood. Neighbors come outside to say hi to him when he goes on walks. The kids at Pinkberry give him yogurt samples. The trannie nurse in the mobile AIDS testing station jumps out of her RV to say hi. He’s just that special.
In lieu of stork presents, please make a donation in Tex’ name.
I promise the next three to five years will be good times for Tex and will also mark the longest LA relationship I’ve ever had! I no longer have to date bad dogs.