Even neutered dogs have balls sometimes

I jetted home Friday night, arriving outside Dulles with two and a half happy dogs craning their necks out the windows of my wife's Subaru. (Dover can't quite make it up there.) Licked heartily all the way home, I hugged all the kitties before sitting down to a lovely meal (salad? what's that?) and an early night, cozy in my old bed, though less cozy with a cat's claws on my chest.
Ostensibly, the reason we'd planned this weekend jaunt was so I could attend the 2005 Washington D.C. Humane Society "Bark Ball", the equivalent of Colorado Springs' "Fur~r~r Ball", only instead of dogs being part of the main event, here they are invited guests. My Pregnant Wife has been on the Bark Ball committee since before she was pregnant, and we arrived a little after noon to help set up the silent auction. We brought Bailey with us, since Griffin would have been an ass around other dogs, and Dover would have been petrified by all the noise and people. Unfortunately, since Bailey was with us in the room all day, by the time we got upstairs and changed and returned, her flabber was gasted as to what the hell these other dogs were doing in her room! The guests trickled in, with most of the dogs dressed up more than their owners (poodles in tiaras, great danes in tuxes, scotties in kilts) -- Bailey was adorned in two strings of white pearls, and got many compliments. She was a little huffy at first, but after a half-hour or so, there were so many animals around, she couldn't be bothered to have an attitude. So I took her over to the dog treat bar, where she could have doggie ice cream or doggie shepherd's pie.
The dinner itself, in an adjoining room, was a little disappointing; although the food was good and the people at our table very amiable (when we could hear each other), having 150 dogs barking all through dinner (and the guest speakers) was a little off-putting. Bailey, now up for 9 hours straight, simply plopped down between our chairs (when we weren't giving her doggie cake icing to lick), hoping the waiters wouldn't step on her.
The other good thing about this weekend was that I got to see my dad on Father's Day. I got him a light robe to replace the one he's had since the mid-80s that was so worn through, you could not tell what color it was initially. My wife even got me my first Father's Day presents ever, including a t-shirt that reads "Big Guy."
Not so cute by itself until I saw the one underneath, 1/10th the size, that read "Little Guy".