Wednesday, May 28, 2014

A Refusal To Castrate My Dog

A potential landlord just told me pets are "welcome" in her house as long as I agree to sign a letter stating that I will have George neutered after he has one litter of pups or within one year, whichever comes first. She is "doing her small part to encourage responsible pet ownership," which to her is synonymous with spaying and neutering.

I attempted to explain to her that just because I don't want to castrate my dog does not mean I intend to run a puppy mill in her backyard. She proceeded to tell me two (count em two) stories about people who - guess what - ran puppy mills in her backyard.

The first bred pit bulls and trained them to fight. I had to stifle a laugh, because have you met George?

The second buried chihuahua pups in the yard, and a toddler accidentally exhumed one of their skeletons. (This probably didn't happen, but it makes a great story with which to shame potential tenants.)

I was polite (enough) to the lady. I did not tell her what I wanted to tell her, which is: take your house and put it in your butt super hard.

This woman thinks it's within the purview of a landlord to "encourage responsible pet ownership." That's fine up to a point. You don't want a maniac dog defacing the walls, floor, and ceiling of your house, or digging mud pits in your backyard. I get it. And you don't want a puppy mill being run out of your home. I get that, too.

But having an intact animal is not synonymous with being an irresponsible breeder. Or even a breeder at all.

I would like one (count em one) of George's pups one day, sure. But the main reason I'm not getting him "fixed" is because he's not broken. I have no problem with his balls, and I don't feel the need to castrate him to prove to everybody what a fucking responsible pet owner I am.

"I love him so much I took his balls."

I can't tell you how many people - some of them strangers - have said, "You should really have him fixed." Have yourself fixed, dipshit. Who the fuck are you?

I don't walk around pointing out the genitalia of other people's animals and saying, "You shouldn't have done that." It's your fucking dog. If you want to get it fixed, get it fixed. But shut the fuck up about my dog.

It's this lady's house, and she can be as ridiculous as she wants with her criteria. But she's missing out on great tenants with a friendly, housebroken animal, all because she's been fed some alarmist bullshit about the "type of people" who don't alter their pets.

I will state this right now: unless there is some health or behavioral reason for it (and I mean a serious behavioral issue such as aggression, not something annoying but hilarious like leg humping) or unless his balls get so long and droopy they start to bang against steps and make him yelp, I am never ever ever castrating George. Ever.

Why not? Because I don't castrate the people I love, and that includes my dog. He loves his balls. If you're a dude, I bet you love your balls. I would rather have to watch him like a hawk around intact females and get barred from the more "enlightened" dog parks and restaurant patios than cut off his balls.

Dudes, I bet if you had a choice, you'd rather get to keep your balls despite never getting to have sex than be castrated.

So George is keeping his nuts, and we're not gonna be living in that lady's house.

But I do have the address. And I must confess I really feel like taping this to her front door.

These are my dog's balls.


  1. Damn it, K-rad! I loved this story, but didn't expect or wanna see your dog's balls. LMAO!!!!

    1. But now you have seen them. And what you have seen, you cannot unsee.