I've been obsessed with fresh breath recently. That doesn't even feel right to say. You should always be concerned with fresh breath I suppose. But with me this is mostly a new phenomenon. That's not to say that before this epiphany, this tidal wave of self-discovery that my breath was foul. But I did smell someone else's breath recently and was shocked. I can't remember who, so for the sake of a good story I'll say it was Ernie.
Ernie likes to eat things like vomit, feces and garbage. He's a dog and his breath is extremely foul, but recently it has started to smell like rancid roast beef. I suppose I should get his teeth cleaned. Ernie was a birthday present for my wife. He was her 25th birthday present to be exact. Not her last in a series of twenty five presents, but a present for her 25th year of life. I got him from the pound. I don't believe in breeders. They're nothing but practitioners of eugenics with less education. And if they are backyard breeders then they usually have no education. "How many people live at your residence?" "Just two. My wife and I". "Ok, she'll have to come down and meet the dog before you adopt him". "But it's a surprise. For her birthday". "I'm sorry, but she'll have to come down before we can release him". So I stopped by Lisa's house. She wasn't busy so I asked her if she could pretend to be Bekki for an hour. She found a ring in her jewelry box and squeezed it onto her ring finger.
Bekki was lying in bed when I walked through the door carrying Ernie. "What type of dog is he?", she asked. I told her he was a Fox Terrier. That's what the nice folks at the pound had told me. Come to find out Ernie is a Rat Terrier. The name is not nearly as impressive, but Teddy Roosevelt had a pack of 'em so I let it go. I carry a box of Altoids with me now for my breath. I don't know if they help. I give Ernie mint flavored dog treats and they sure as hell don't.
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