How My Dog’s Ovaries Got Me Through Writer’s Block

I mentioned a few days ago on Twitter that we were celebrating the peaceful transition in government by taking our new puppy, Olive, to the vet to get “tutored” (a shout out to my most-favoritest Far Side of all time.)  Yes, our little Olive will be Extra-Virgin for evah.  Before the letters start pouring in, YES I know, just because she is barren at the ripe old age of 6 months does not mean she still can not be a slutty little bitch.  She can have all the crazy doggy-style sex she wants, but she won’t get pregnant, but that does not work with the Olive theme so back off.  Plus, we have two neutered male cats, that are more into eachother than her and if some cross-species curiousity occurs, I don’t want to know about it.

So how did Olive’s ovaries affect my very public case of Writer’s Block (meltdown last weekend on Twitter)?  Let me answer that with a question.  If you have thoughts of cat-on-cat-on-dog relations, associated with Barack Obama, George Bush, and canine reproductive systems; not to mention yummy extra-virgin olive oil, which reminds me of cooking, which in-turn reminds me of bacon running through your head would you NOT need to release that in some manner?  I sure had too.  (And yes, I am aware that last sentence was in full-out run-on mode and that I am wayyyyy over-hyphenating but it’s been a while.)  So I wrote the thoughts out of my system. 

I believe Stephen King (or someone else) stated “writing is a muscle that must be exercised.” However, my thoughs are it’s more like your colon, and just like two FiberOne bars for my writing colon, the words are starting to pour out once again thanks to thoughts of Olive and her ex-ovaries.

(By the way, the vet will not let you keep the ovaries even if you ask and slip him a twenty.  I did not wish to mount them or store them in a jar next to my cats’ testicles in the basement by the pit I keep women in.  I simply wanted proof that the vet did not cut corners, simply slicing her open with a scalpel, tossing in a few packing peanuts and sewing her back up in order to appear that work was done.  I’m a skeptic.  I want proof.)

PS. I do not have thoughts of cat-on-cat-on-dog sexual relations.  That was simply for thematic effect.  You can’t prove otherwise.