Well, I guess you could say I’m about as excited as I have ever been.

Let me start from the beginning, as I am positive that nearly none of ya’all has any clue as to what I’m talking about. Last night mamma burst into my room around 9 PM (house dress wide open again; I swear I am just about to my breaking point) and let out a shout loud enough to scare the sense out of Jesus: “Jose, get your ass out of that beanbag chair and dump it in the Ranger! The Parkinson’s just had their litter!”

Now, just about half the god-damned town had been waiting for the Parkinson’s bitch tard, Betsy, to drop her pups ever since the less cautious of my younger brothers (yes, it was Connie; as if you even had to ask) caught the scent and lost restraint last spring. The good Lord knows daddy pulled nearly every muscle in his poor back trying to keep that boy off the Parkinson’s fence, but once he got into their yard it was all over. People tended against meeting my eyes for a few weeks after that, but as far as I could see there wasn’t anything going on that Betsy wasn’t already a fan of, so no harm done. People got used to the news—as they are prone to do—and life went on as per God’s will. Not to mention the fact that I got to take a drive down 61 to the other side of Clarksville and pick out my chore boy! I owe you one, Connie.

My need for a pet is well documented in my family—especially one of a task-oriented nature—but these little details are best left to a future posting. For now, let me just say that we got to the Parkinson’s barn just in time. Just about all of ole’ Betsy’s litter was gone, except for one little, helpless runt. He was so small and sweet, he nearly fit in the palm of my hand. Now, I knew what it all meant. If he’s a runt, well, there’s a lot going on over at the homestead that he’s not gonna be able to handle. Fortifying our own bitch tard fences against the likes of Connie isn’t a job for a runt of nearly any size, but there are plenty of other more domestic type dealings he most certainly CAN handle, and since he licked my face so sweet-like and was so quick to take a piece of my heart, I knew I just had to keep him. It’s funny how emotions can override one’s smart making centers, right?

Since he looked so damned much like a Mikey, that’s what I named him. Me and Sissy spent just about the whole night watching him dance and laugh to her karaoke cassettes. I put some video of him up so you can fall in love, too!

That’s all I can say for now. I simply must train Mikey to clean daddy’s bathroom today, because I just don’t think I can stand it anymore. Jesus wept, how much reading can one man do!

More to come soon. I think Mikey is going to make for a ton of good reading material.

Thanks, all.