I had a Brittany spaniel growing up named Joe. Joe liked to jump up on countertops, tear through trash cans, run away as soon as you opened the door, hump your date's leg the minute she entered the house (along with furniture, jackets, couches, chairs, toys and the lawn), pissed on my favorite coat just for the hell of it (even after dry cleaning it smelled like urine every time it rained) and got into at least three separate incidences with skunks, which led to him stinking like goddamned burnt rubber and peanut butter for a a year and a half of his obnoxious life.
We called him Skunky Joe. He was truly the most revolting pet I've ever seen. Skunky Joe lived to 16 just on sheer obnoxiousness. He died in mid-January when the temperature was around 20 degrees, and I had to drive 60 miles out to my parent's farm to dig a hole in the half-frozen ground for him. The final insult.
Funny thing is that I kind of miss him now in a "What the fuck is that son of a bitch gonna do next?" kind of way. I've got rational, well-behaved pets now, and they actually care what I think and want.
I'd never want Skunky Joe back permanently, but sometimes I think it'd be nice to just have him around for a half hour. If only because he'd do one of his revolting, crazy things and I could mercilessly pummel his head with a shovel.
