My best friend is dying of cancer. He could pass away any moment.
Today, I was visiting and showed him a picture of the German Shepard puppy I just put a security deposit on. It will be ready to take home in 4 weeks.
I’ve always wanted a German Shepard puppy, so I was excited to show him the pictures—and I thought maybe the pictures would bring him at least a moment of joy—even if the moment was fleeting.
But instead of sharing my excitement, things became awkward. After a few minutes of awkwardness—I asked him what was wrong.
I was blindsided by his response. He said that his cousin, who was supposed to take his 2 year old Pug named “Horace” could no longer take him and I could save a lot of money by taking his dog.
I looked over at Horace and he looked backed at me. Well, he tried to look at me—but he’s got one wondering eye that pretty much is always looking towards the ceiling. I could feel his glare with his good eye though.
Horace is not a good dog. This is not me being an asshole—this is simply me knowing Horace. He’s a little shit and on top of that—he shits in the house and he tears stuff up. He's always yapping. He’s always wanting something. He doesn't even know what he wants. He literally just wants to want something. Nonstop. He was never properly trained.
Overall, I’m not a fan of the “Pug” dog breed. Their faces look it’s been hit with a shovel. They are always gasping for air with their eyes bulged out as if they are stranded without a space helmet in the Martian atmosphere.
I told my friend, “No thank you. But, I will try to help you find him a good home.”
“Really?” He says. “Are you f-ing kidding me? You’ve known Horace since he was a puppy. “
“I know, that’s why I don’t want him. He’s just—not a good dog.”
“Wow. You are such an asshole.” My friend says.
So…am I?