Well we cut off Joes balls.

Don't judge me.

Joe had turned into a frantic, hysterical, adolescent male animal when our 7 year old heeler who we thought was menopausal went into heat.

Oh my God.

Our little guy who had been doing so well in his training, who slept curled next to me at night, who dozed at our feet became a devil incarnate who wouldn't even look at us anymore, his eyes glued on our dog Maile at all times. She went from being his mother figure to his girlfriend. Talk about the Madonna/Whore complex - jeez!

We couldn't take it anymore. He barked incessently. He followed her around constantly, licking at her, watching her every move. He screamed a couple of times when he got his puppy hard-ons and apparently, they hurt. [I know, too much information.] I was ready to give him up to the Humane Society: take this no-good black chihuahua/fox terrier mix and I never want to see him again. Give him a harem. I want a Cavalier Spaniel who dozes on the couch, is that too much to ask?!

Joe went for his pre-op visit yesterday. [Really? Dogs need pre-op visits? Why don't you just call them for what they are: we-are-stealing-more-money-from-you visits.] Today he seemed calm sitting on my husbands lap in the waiting room, not shaking with fear. When the Vet tech came to take him in the back he growled at her (who doesn't love a puppy who growls?). She got a little leash and he pranced happily off with her behind the big white doors, his little tail wagging, not knowing he was about to get his balls cut off.

This isn't easy for me. Don't think it is.

But if Joe wants to stay in our house, eating our dog food, sharing the view off of our deck, the balls must go! If I could put his balls to good use and send him off to Afghanistan, I would. Alas, they are not taking chihuahua/terrier mixes at this time. So off with the balls. Soooorrry.

What will Joe be like upon his return? Furious? Embarrassed? Gender-confused? In pain? All I want is a peaceful household where Joe isn't tracking Maile like he's a lion and she's a gazelle. My heart just can't take it anymore.

Well, we picked Joe up from the vet last night. He was forlorn. His eyes said: Get me the hell out of here. So we did. He is ball-less, stitched and a tad bit less horny today. He has to wear this unfortunate neck-thing which wreaks havoc on the house as he bounces off of things into other things.

Afghanistan? Your loss.