Possible Reasons These Dogs Are Drunk

“Well, this here is Larry the Cable Dog. He likes guzzling beers, cocking his shotgun and complaining about our nation’s ‘lax’ immigration laws. He spends most of his time hunting deer in the woods behind his master’s trailer park — or well, trying to. It’s hard to shoot a gun without thumbs. He loves his lord and savior Dog Jesus and the music of Garth Barks, Rebark McIntyre, Doggy Parton and Shank Williams. His favorite hobby is hanging around a bonfire in the summer time, sipping Coors from a bowl and reminiscing about the Bush years (Sr. and Jr.) when Barney ran this nation right. These colors don’t run…unless of course you throw a tennis ball down a hallway. Git r’ dog.”

“Shut up, Margery! Shut up. No me gusta. I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough! I am man’s goddamn best friend! I WILL DO WHAT I WANT. YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE WOOF, MARGERY. Now hit me with another tequila shot. Hold my jaw open and pour it into my mouth for me. I’ll just lick the salt and lime off the floor. F-ck Frontline. F-ck PetMeds.com. F-ck ticks! PUPPY NEEDS HIS DRINK-Y MEDICINE YUM YUMS. What? You got something to say, ese? Hm? Are you blind? Do I look like a goddamn chihuahua? Say ‘Te quiero Taco Bell’ to me one more time. SEE WHAT HAPPENS.”

“Christmas dog! You’ve ruined another Christmas with your alcoholism. The kids came in to the living room Christmas morning hoping to see beautiful presents wrapped under the tree and instead they find you passed out, wrapped in tinsel and burping and farting champagne bubbles. You lifted your leg and pissed on the bottom of the tree. In front of everyone. Look at you. I will not “Deal With It.” You can’t even stand up and now our grandmother is crying. You made Nana cry! No, it’s not just because it’s the holidays and everyone drinks. Not everyone blacks out and licks the eggnog from the carton. No, Christmas dog. This is an intervention. This year, you need to get help.”

“[sniff] I mean, I just think if they’re gonna make sports movies with dogs, why not just redo entire series with dogs, right? Like, like, okay. Here’s an idea I have. Tell me if this is crazy, okay? Okay: American Psycho but with dogs? Right, right, or wait for it — Mad Men with dogs! Right? I’m a f-cking genius when I’m buzzed, man. Those Airbud movies ain’t sh-t. …God, I hate working late at the office. Let’s blow off some more steam when we’re done here. As I always say, work hard, play-frisbee-with-my-master harder, know what I mean? Hey, wanna do some doggie cocaine in the bathroom? I have it on me. It’s just Kibbles N’ Bits… mixed with cocaine. F-ck yeah.”

“Bro, bro, bro wake up. Bro. What the f-ck happened last night? I know we drank like, a buttload of wine coolers and keg beer and then, it just kind of goes black. Did we…no way, dude. NO. WAY. There was definitely a chick here right? We double-teamed a hot poodle or something? Dude. I think we were alone. Dude. I remember you behind me, pounding away like I was some stranger’s leg. Dude. No one in the canine frat [Delta Omega Gamma] can know about this. Anyway, I’m not gay, bro. I just…thought you were a chick because dogs only do it in one position. No homo, dawg.”

“So then, I put 500 bucks on I’ll Have Another in the Kentucky Derby and another 500 on Hilary Fluff at The Westminster Dog Show. In 1985, I put 5,000 on the Milwaukee Bucks like a chump. But I can’t help it. It’s just, man, the rush of the gamble, you know? There’s no high like it. Taught myself how to count cards when I was just a pup in the kennel so I’ve been doing this all my life. After a shit week, just heading out to Vegas alone or with the boys, drop a cool thou on the Black Jack table at the MGM Grand or on craps at Ceaser’s Palace or hell, convince two homeless dogs to fight it out and bet on that. What a rush. Nothing like it. One time in ’99, I bet my boss at the Seeing Eye Dog Organization that I could blow flames by spitting gasoline and set my own face on fire. Ironically, I lost an eye. Anyway, dealer, hit me.”

“And I was just like, gawd Sully, you nevah take me anyplace nice anymohre, you know? I mean, when was the last time we went to Legal Seafoods and had a real nice dinnah of their scraps, right? He doesn’t even cahre about his puppy son at home, because he’s too busy sucking Tom Brady’s d-ck with his macho pound buddies. But what can I say? I love him. Anyway, after I leave the bah, I’m gonna make a Dunkies run. There’s one right up on Dot Ave. Then, I have to pick Bobby Kennedy Jr. up from doggy pre-school in Leominster in an hour and I don’t want to get stopped by the staties fah bein’ too drunk. Again.”