Azriel's Advice

Hey, Beautiful. Scroll down to yesterday's post for the question.

Dear She-Wolf Lover,

First, tell her ENOUGH WITH THE RABBITS ALREADY! Use a rolled-up newspaper if you have to, but make sure she understands No Dead Things On The Porch. Second, buy a dog brush. One night of shedding a month is not going to kill you. Trust me. I've tried to kill people with dog hair before. It doesn't work, I don't care what kind of flaming ju-ju you put on it or how hard you throw it at them. And besides, it's a great chance for some freaky stuff that isn't too-too freaky if you know what I mean. (Cough, dogggie style, cough.)

That's assuming, of course, that those two teeny-tiny-a** little things are actually what's keeping you from living in sin. But you know what? I'm a demon, honey. I can smell an evil, evil lie a mile away, even if you're telling it to yourself. Stop making out like you would move in with her if she wasn't possessed of the two giant defects of having too-luxuriant locks and loving you enough to bring you little presents (allbeit weird-a** ones). Simply admit to yourself that you don't want her moving in because...you don't want to live with her. Maybe you're afraid she'll unalphabetize your Burt Bacharach collection. Maybe it's because you're hoping something better will come along—something like a were-pomeranian, maybe?

Whatever your reason, you need to stop being such a giant puss and own up to what you want—or, in this case, what you don't want—unless what you DO want is to chance winding up with a pet you won't be able to take to the pound.