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Tug walked into my Me Only Room the other night and sat and sighed and said, I don’t feel so good, Boss.

And then he threw up on my foot.

Sorry, he said.

Dude, I said, squishing my toes around. Tug looked anywhere but at me.

I hopped out to the kitchen to get paper towels and clean it up and while I was doing that, Tug trundled out, spewing all over the living room carpet.

DUDE, I said, maybe a little more forcibly. I mean, c’mon, half our house is tile and he has to throw up on the carpet?

So I followed him around, cleaning up his dog vomit wondering how much dog vomit can one dog have?

When Miss Carol got home she went into hyper-mommy mode, wanting to know if he’d eaten (no), or pooped (uh,no) and then she stared at me with her oh-okay-I-get-it-you’re-one-of-THOSE-guys eyes and went to call the vet.

The vet agreed to see Tug so we went speeding through the streets to the vet with Tug laying in the back of Miss Carol’s Jeep and Cutter standing between us on high alert.

What a princess, Cutter muttered to me.

The vet looked at Tug and x-rayed him and poked and prodded and decided that Tug had a stomach virus and gave him a shot to stop his vomiting and told Miss Carol and me how to care for him for the next 48 hours.

And he’s fine. He came around and he’s eating again and humping Cutter.

So last night Miss Carol and me are sitting sipping a cocktail, just glad it’s over, relishing the moment, when Cutter came and sat down between us.

Ahem, um, I don’t feel so good, he said.

And threw up on the carpet.

I loves my music.

I listen to anything and everything and if it strikes a chord (see what I did there?) with me I’ll listen to it over and over and over again. I listen to music more than I listen to Miss Carol and that’s sayin’ something.

I loves my music.

So you can imagine my surprise and elation when I went out to the mailbox yesterday and found the Rolling Stone BIG issue nestling within. One of the BIG things my magazine cover promised was THE 10 NEW BANDS THAT WILL ROCK YOU IN 2012.

My hands shook with pre-coital excitement.

I cradled my Rolling Stone and took her inside. After a couple of cocktails, some quiet get-to-know-you conversation, and a candle-lit dinner with my little Rolling Stone, I took her into my Me Only Room to check her out and listen to her BIG 10.

Here’s what I found-

SLEIGH BELLS- I love the name. I really do. But even though I downloaded two songs-DOA and Road to Hell, I didn’t really like most of what I heard. Most of the songs sounded like variations of themselves. Hmmm. That, and he wears really dorky sunglasses and her nose is too pointy.

ALABAMA SHAKES- I was so glad to see them on Rolling Stones BIG list. I first heard them about a month ago and downloaded the entire album. (why are we still calling these bits and bytes albums?) They fucking rock. Grab a listen.

FUN.- Nope. Don’t get it. I like hip hop and rap but this is confused and trying too hard.

GRIMES- A tatted-up ex-ballerina is a little difficult to look at. She’s eerie. iTunes review says “she pushes the margin of this electronic subgenre”. I probably don’t know what that means, ’cause her music makes my teeth itch.

GOTYE- Can you make a career of remixes of one song? I don’t know. But it seems like Gotye is trying. I like Somebody That I Used To Know well enough, not well enough to choose which remix to download, but well enough.

DANNY BROWN- Sounds to me like just another punk ass rapper. He’s being hyped online for his hyper extremist shock rap, but honestly? It’s the same shit, different day. Listen to Snoop Dog or Cypress Hill or Rage Against the Machine instead.

CLOUD NOTHINGS- Are not too bad. They sound kinda like a really weak, gay, Green Day.

BEACH HOUSE- I kinda like this. Not enough yet to download anything yet, but I kinda like it. The music is the type that I imagine chicks listen to after they’ve been dumped. But it grows on you, or maybe clings to you. Give it a listen.

SHARON VAN ETTEN- Oh wait. Maybe this is what chicks listen to after they’ve been dumped.

WHITE RABBITS- Music for metrosexuals to floss and gloss by. Flippin’ awful unless you need music to floss and gloss by.

It’s an interesting mix that my Rolling Stone believes will rock me in 2012. She knows waaaay more than me but, honestly?, I wasn’t too crazy about the list.

At least Metallica was on the cover.

Will whoever stole the last three weeks of my life please return them to me?

I mean, I know there are valid reasons for the lapse, for the whole lag in the time-space continuum thingy.

Stuff like my brother and his little cupcake moving in with us. I’d naively thought that they’d be doing all the heavy lifting due to the fact that it was them doing the moving and stuff. I figured Miss Carol and me just had to scritch over a little at life’s table to make room for them.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, hooboy. Nothing could’ve been further from the truth. The truth being Miss Carol and me are also moving. Granted, we’re just moving about within our house, but we’re moving and Miss Carol is bound and determined to make sure our new roommates have as much space as possible.

I figured I could take a week off of oceandoggy.com.

And then there was stuff like-

On Sunday I called the boys into the Me Only Room.

Guys, I said. We need to talk.

They sat, looking at me a little suspiciously, and Cutter said, what about?

Guys, I said, you know my brother and his little cupcake are moving in with us, right?

Cutter and Tug shrugged, if, you know, dogs could shrug, and Cutter said, so?

What you don’t know, I said, is that my brother’s little cupcake is bringing her cat with her and she’s really worried about how you guys are going to get along with Sebastian.

Cutter and Tug looked at one another, ears cocked and eyes glistening, and then they both turned to me and Tug said, we’ll get along GREAT! We LOVE cats!

YEAH, Cutter said enthusiastically, they taste just like chicken!

Guys, I said, rubbing my forehead. I should have known.

Tug turned back to Cutter and said, whaddya call a hundred dead cats on the bottom the pool?

SOUP!!, Cutter yelped, and they both broke up laughing bwwaaaahahahahahahaha!!

Guys, I said through gritted teeth, trying to be patient.

Cutter wiped his eyes and looked at Tug. Check it bro, he said. What goes meow, bumpthumpitybump, meow, bumpthumpitybump? he asked his littermate.

Tug barely squeezed out, a cat bouncing down the stairs!, before they both collapsed into another fit of laughter.

C’mon guys, I said. This is serious.

Wait, wait, Tug said, sitting up and pawing Cutter’s shoulder with his paw. How ’bout this one? What should every kitten be wearing?, he said.

A sandwich roll!!! Cutter said, and they both dissolved into another paroxysm of hilarity.

I hate you guys, I said resignedly.

They were rolling around on the floor of the Me Only Room laughing when Miss Carol walked in. What’s so funny? she asked.

You don’t wanna know, I said, watching Cutter and Tug high-five one another. But I’m guessin’ they’re gonna like Sebastian just fine, I said.

Miss Carol smiled at me and said, oh, good.

I loved MR.GREENE. Loved his magnificent hugeness, loved his diesel, loved all his lights, loved his leather, loved him. In a, you know, manly way.

But I hated his cost.

The thing they don’t tell you when you fall in love with something the size of MR.GREENE. is just how much that love-largesse is gonna cost you and believe you me, it’s lots and lots- his oil changes were $125 and every 12 or 13 miles he’d guzzle another gallon of $4 diesel. Oh, and let’s don’t forget his truck payment and insurance.

I loved him but I needed to let him go.

I’d been looking for something a little less grandiose for the last several months whilst I reveled in HIS hugeness. I’d driven H2’s, H3’s, Jeeps, Nissan X-Terra’s and honestly? All were ho-hummers. It was like, hey, whatever, if it’s not my beloved MR.GREENE. why bother?

But then last week as I was leaving the hospital I saw a Cooper Mini in the doctor’s parking lot and went over and looked at it’s littleness. It was kinda cute in a teeny tiny way. I figured I could fit two of ’em in MR.GREENE.‘s truck bed.

Driving home that afternoon I remembered that there’s a Cooper dealership on the way and decided to stop and find out more about these silly little cars. I pulled into the lot, being careful not to roll over any of the Mini’s on display, and was met by one of the salesguys as I climbed down from MR.GREENE. We talked, he answered my questions about the cute little go-karts that BMW’s Cooper division call cars, and I decided to take one out for a test drive.

And I was flippen’ smitten.

I haven’t had that much fun driving in, like, forever. I got back to the dealership, tucked Little Miss Teeny Tiny up under my arm like a surfboard and ran inside.

I’ll take her, I said to the salesguy, holding Little Miss Teeny Tiny out in front of me so he’d know which one I wanted.

We worked out the boring trade-in and financial and insurance details and I took my new little girlfriend home. She’s tiny and teeny, but with her back seats folded down she’s big enough to carry my tools and the type of materials I need and I’ve ordered a roof rack for her. She’s the perfect little work vehicle at half the cost and three times the gas mileage. And she’s cute.

When Miss Carol got home and saw her, she sighed and said, just don’t let the dogs play with that in the house, ok?

Very funny.

A weird thing happened to me the other day.

I was working in this doctor’s office, a doctor’s office full of old people, when one of the exam room doors slid open and this old black guy came out into the narrow hand-hold railinged hallway followed by an even older black guy.

And instead of ignoring me and going about their business or their day, the first old black guy stopped and looked at me and said-

Whaddya call more than one mouse?

Mice, I said.

He seemed impressed.

Whaddya call more than one goose?

Geese, I said.

He beamed.

OK smart guy, whaddya call more than one moose?

Mooses, I said.

He laughed and said the strangest thing.

Enjoy your life, he boomed laughing, and escorted his father out into the reception area.

And I don’t know why, but I just loved that.

Enjoy your life.

Honestly.

Cutter will eat anything. He eats apples, carrots, grapes, pears, tomatoes, anything.

Tonight I was standing in the kitchen looking down at him and I had to laugh. We’d just finished dinner and Cutter had had carrots and dog biscuits and cucumber and he was still relentlessly wanting more.

You’re relentless, I said.

Don’t you ever get tired?, I asked, joking.

Dude, he said, sitting and settling. Tug circled and sat next to him- never a good sign.

Dude, he said again, admonishing me. Think about it. I have thumbless paws. I’m totally reliant on you and Miss Carol for everything in my life.

Yeah, Tug nodded.

Cutter looked at him for a second before continuing. So yeah, he said. I’m real excited when you bring out food. In fact it’s my only excitement, he said. Unless you’re gonna let me drive your truck, he said. 

Yeah, Tug said and licked himself.

Jesus, Cutter said staring at him.

Do I have to be a dog?, he said.

So- My littlest sister read the first chapter of my book.

She said- It left me going what the hell is going on?

She said- Where the hell r these crazy people?

She said- Send me more immediately!!!!

She said- It’s awesome!!!!!

I’d tried to remain cool and aloof and uncaring, but honestly? I’ve been fist pumping and high-fiving myself all day.