My dog bit my penis. Really. It wasn’t anything vicious or perverted; nothing as interesting as that. When we were playing tug yesterday, Ouzo, my German Shepherd, re-positioned his canine death-grip and, in doing so, accidentally included the business end of my manhood in his bite. I screamed. Really loud. Partly out of pain but mostly out of pure, blind panic, fearing that I may no longer perform my husbandly duties. Bent-over and clutching myself, moaning and whimpering in my most manly way, I hobbled back into the house and presented my injured member to my wife for comfort and first aid. Closer examination revealed a shallow puncture wound and two bulging, black blood blisters. Susan made me an ice pack which I kept applied to the injured area for about an hour. As the pain began to disperse, I started feeling the natural endorphins that the body produces in response to intense pain. Slowly, the pain gave way to a fuzzy narcotic haze–the one bright spot in this whole surreal episode. I’m fairly desperate to prevent an infection in order to avoid explaining to the physician how I sustained such an injury…and then reading about my own injury months later in a joke email circulating the internet. Fortunately, basic function doesn’t seem to be affected. Well, off to change my bandaid.