It’s early and cold. You stand next to me at the dog run before I have had the chance to take my first sip of coffee and immediately begin telling me about Muffin and her soft stool. Then you talk to Muffin: "Muffin, if you don’t like that game you can just walk away?" Muffin responds by rolling around in shit-stained grass. When you get home, Muffin will lick her privates—probably in your bed where you let her sleep with it’s ass on your pillow. Next time you have a heart-to-heart with Muffin, ask her why you are not getting laid.