Q: What are men?

A: Dogs

I’ve been a guy for a long while. I am pretty typical in terms of the gender. I like to eat. I like to sniff women. Give me a toy and I will be enraptured with it for hours no matter how stupid it is. Saturday nap is a big deal. Put me on a leash and I will pull at it to the point of asphyxiation.

Whereas my evolutionary ancestors may be apes, in terms of my day to day wandering I am a dog. I’ve come to accept it. It’s my nature.

I like to think that I am a good dog, the type that any owner would want: loyal, house broken, entertaining and a good companion on a cold night.

But not all dogs are good dogs. Some dogs are bad. You know the type, half starved creatures that roam the night, foraging from garbage can to garbage can while looking for bitches to hump.

They're mongrels.

Mongrels eat whatever they can sink their teeth into and hump anything that walks, regardless of breed or condition.

Some mongrels look adorable. They have those forlorn eyes and cute tails that lead the unsuspecting mark to think that the intermittent doggie treat and occasional pet on the snoot will make the animal safe to be around the kids. And they will be safe, until no one is looking.

Mongrels have no care for the feelings or conditions of other dogs. They’ve spent much too much time in the trash bins of life to have developed the adequate ability to look out for any number other than one. For them it’s all about feeding and humping.

So what’s the big deal?

Here’s the big deal: I am the father of daughters, brother to a sister, husband to not one, but two wives, (sequentially of course) and a friend to many women. I have an investment in the well being of the gender. I’ve come to learn that more than a few of the women in my life have been bitten by mongrels in the most horrible of ways: words of undying affection and eternal consideration that crescendo to a grand finale of “It's not working out. Thanks for the nooky. Goodbye.” No reason, no discussion, no nothing.

Now here is what I know about women: they’re flowers. They smell good, look good and bring beauty to world. Good dogs don’t trample on flowers. Mongrels can't wait. Mongrels make me so ashamed to be a man that there are times that I want to cut off the johnson, if I didn’t like it so much. It’s despicable.

Now don’t get me wrong. I've dated my share of Venus Flytraps. We all come with baggage. But for a man to pursue a member of the opposite sex with no other purpose than to eat, hump and throw away is unconscionable and indecent.

And yet the mongrels get away with it. Why? Because they can. Unless you’re Amy Fisher, there’s no pain in mongrel behavior. So ladies next time you encounter a mongrel, don’t call the dog catcher. Just call the exterminator. And remember, every man is a dog, and can be a mongrel until proven otherwise.