“What is wrong with Clem?” cried Patrice and DuShawn.

“He is dragging his ass on the floor and whining!” wailed Patrice.

“I bet there is something wrong with his anus!” howled DuShawn.

“Oh, if only we had a gay blogging friend who is comfortable with all things ass related and is not humiliated to be seen with an oh-so-NOT homosexual canine!” Patrice and DuShawn cried.

They both thought for a moment and then realized they knew just such a person.

“Dirk!” they cried in unison.

“He is a gay blogger!” said Patrice.

“And is comfortable with all things ass related!” added DuShawn.

“And he’s not humiliated to be seen with an oh-so-NOT homosexual canine!” they cried in unison.

RING! RING!

“Hello?” Dirk answered his phone.

“Hello, Dirk!” said Patrice and DuShawn. “Clem is dragging his ass on the floor and whining and we both have jobs that preclude our taking him to the doggie doctor. Would you perhaps be available to take him?”

“Yes,” replied Dirk, “I will take him to the doggie doctor.”

Later that day, Dirk took Clem to visit the doggie doctor. While they waited to be seen, Dirk and Clem looked at the big wall of photos of the other puppies who had been seen by the nice doggie doctor.

Clem looked at Dirk.

“Please do not let me become part of this weird ass fucking shrine,” Clem whispered.

“I shall do my best to prevent you from being single white dog-ed,” Dirk whispered in reply.

Soon Dirk and Clem were directed to a small examining room with photos of doggie dental decay adorning the walls.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Clem frowned, “first the Jame Gumb altar in the lobby, now drawings of rotten teeth — what kind of sick, twisted place did you drag me to, fruit?”

Before Dirk could answer, the door opened.

“Hello,” said the doggie doctor.

“Hello,” said Dirk.

“What is wrong today?” asked the doggie doctor.

“Clem’s ass is sore,” replied Dirk, hoping that did not make him sound like a puppy fucker.

“Hmmmmmmm,” said the doggie doctor leaning in for a better look at Clem’s puckered back porch. “It looks as though Clem has himself an abscess here.”

“Is that serious?” asked Dirk.

“Not at all. I’ll just lance it.”

And he did.

“Yesssssss,” Clem sighed in relief as a frothy cottage cheese-like substance began flowing from the incision near his rectum.

“Mother. Of. God,” thought Dirk as he struggled not to pass out.

“All done,” said the doggie doctor. “That will be $75 — you can pay my receptionist.”

“Thank you,” said Dirk.

Dirk paid the receptionist and took Clem home.

“How is our precious oh-so-NOT homosexual canine?” cried Patrice and DuShawn.

“He’s fine,” replied Dirk. “He had an– “

“We don’t need details,” cried Patrice and DuShawn, pushing Dirk towards the door. “Thank you for taking our oh-so-NOT homosexual canine to the doggie doctor. Goodbye, Dirk.”

“Goodbye,” replied Dirk.

“Whew!” cried DuShawn, closing the door behind him. “That was close!”

“Yes,” replied Patrice. “You know how gay bloggers love to talk about all things ass related!”

“Let’s gather the children and pray for our very helpful but oh so misguided ass obsessed gay blogger friend!” cried Patrice.

And as they did just that, Clem waddled off to his kennel to smoke a stogie and call 1-800-HUSKY-STUDS.
____

1-800-HUSKY-STUDS is not real but anal abscesses are. To learn more about localized collections of pus in your nether regions, quit surfing the net for porn and get your ass to your local library. The walk will do you good, plus there are tons of hot guys to hit on there.