Me: Howie, I put some freeze-dried sweet potato bites back there for you. Help yourself. 

Howie: Too much to ask for some beef jerky or something?

Me: That dog seatbelt isn’t too tight, is it? 

Howie: Where the hell are you taking me?

Me: Your new home. You’re going to live with us now. 

Howie: Why?

Me: Wendy and I had been talking about rescuing a dog for a long time. We finally pulled the trigger and rescued you. 

Howie: Was I drowning?

Me: Haha. No, buddy, all dogs deserve a forever home, and we wanted to give you one. Here’s to second chances! 

Howie: I liked living with the Fosters.

Me: Well, the Hewitts were keeping you temporarily, fostering you until someone could rescue you. 

Howie: Was their house on fire?

Me: Huh? 

Howie: I must’ve been stuck on the second floor of their burning house if I needed someone to rescue me.

Me: No, buddy, we didn’t rescue you from a fire. We rescued you from homelessness. There are too many dogs like you with nowhere to go. 

Howie: Well, buddy, didn’t you pay to “rescue” me?

Me: There was a fee, yeah. It covers food, vet care, and other stuff for the pups who still need to be rescued. 

Howie: How much was it?

Me: Don’t worry about that, Howie. All that matters is that Wendy and I are giving you a forever home. 

Howie: No, tell me. How much was the fee?

Me: Well, it was $1,200, but as I said, all that money will help other dogs. 

Howie: Oh, you paid $1, 200 – that’s reasonable.

Me: I think so. 

Howie: And pretty heroic of you, actually. Thank you so much for saving me.

Me: You’re welcome! 

Howie: You and this Wendy are bigger heroes than the 9/11 first responders.

Me: What do you mean? 

Howie: They didn’t even pay a fee to risk their lives and long-term health rescuing people from collapsing buildings.

Me: Come on, Howie. Can’t you just be thankful we’re taking you in? 

Howie: These sweet potato bites taste like shit.

Me: Do you want me to stop and get some jerky? 

Howie: Don’t worry about it. Weren’t there other dogs who needed a “forever home” more than I did?

Me: Wendy and I did a lot of research and had a long list of potential rescues. We thought you’d be the best fit for us. 

Howie: Why are you using “rescue” as a noun?

Me: Wait, what? I didn’t mean…

Howie: Did you pick me because I’m a Goldendoodle?

Me: No, not necessarily, but we… 

Howie: Couldn’t find a Bernedoodle?

Me: What is the issue? 

Howie: Tell me you’re not a Labradoodle man.

Me: Look, thousands of dogs don’t have homes, so we wanted to do the right thing by rescuing one. Can’t you just be grateful we chose you? 

Howie: I’m a six-month-old designer dog.

Me: Yeah, who didn’t have a home until today. 

Howie: There were 129 applications.

Me: Well, the organization chose us because, apparently, we can provide the best home for you. 

Howie: Tell that to Shitlips.

Me: Shitlips? Who?

Howie: My buddy Shitlips from County. Eleven-year-old pitbull mix. Heartworm positive. One-and-a-half eyes. Decent temperament but humps everything that moves. Loyal to a fault.

Me: Hopefully someone does the right thing and gives Shitlips a lovely home. 

Howie: What about you?

Me: What?

Howie: Let’s go pick him up.

Me: We can’t just… 

Howie: His fee is only 30 bucks.

Me: It’s not the fee. We don’t have room. 

Howie: Do you have a deck?

Me: Why? 

Howie: Shitlips used to sleep under a deck. Honestly, he’d prefer it over one of those fancy-ass dog beds people like you buy. He’d murder these hippie dog treats too. He eats everything, even his own shit, hence his name.

Me: Look, I’d love to help Shitlips. I really would. But we just can’t have two dogs right now.

Howie: Okay, take me back.

Me: Take you back? 

Howie: Yeah, take me back to the Fosters and go get Shitlips. It’s a kill shelter, so he’s gonna die in there if you don’t rescue him.

Me: Come on, that’s not fair. 

Howie: What? There are 128 other families lined up to say they rescued me. Shitlips has one paw in the gas chamber, and you’re all of a sudden not feeling very righteous?

Me: I can’t rescue every dog! 

Howie: No, but you can rescue Shitlips. 

Me: Fuck, man, will you just drop it? 

Howie: Murderer.

Me: You’re a real fucking asshole, you know? We’re about to pull in, so can you please keep your mouth shut?

Howie: Yay, my forever home.

Me: You’re goddamned right. And Wendy’s pregnant, so don’t do anything to get her worked up. And if you mention Shitlips’s name, I swear to God…

Howie: Rest in peace, Shitlips.

Me: Fuck you.

The post My Conversation with My New Goldendoodle Rescue on the Car Ride Home appeared first on Robot Butt.