This is the paragraph in this week’s podcast that’s causing me so much trouble:

Now, I realize that what I am about to say will put me high up on any decent person’s list of surly, soulless, scoundrels. But I don’t want a dog in my life right now. I also realize that statements like that cause a great many—mostly unnecessary—fatal fights between men and women. And I understand that one of the things my Lady Wonder Wench is thinking now is “If I throw a stick, will he run after it—and just keep running?” Please don’t misunderstand. I like dogs. I just don’t like dog poop, dog hair, and the dog-gone hassle of taking walks in the snow looking for fire hydrants and trees. I am not really a terrible person for not wanting a dog in my life right now. I may be a terrible person, but not for that reason. I’ve just been a highly responsible guy all my life. And now, four out of the five voices in my head are telling me it’s time I let the little kid inside me out to play. Just me and my Lady W.W.”

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