What Am I Going To Do With All These Dog Uteruses?

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What Am I Going To Do With All These Dog Uteruses?

Anyone who enjoyed my historic 35-year run as host of The Price Is Right knows there's no cause I feel more strongly about than the crisis of animal overpopulation. That's why I made sure to close every show by reminding viewers to have their pets spayed or neutered, and why I took that correspondence course on in-home animal surgery. But after four decades of personally removing as many dog uteruses as I could get my hands on, they're really starting to pile up.

I've got dog uteruses everywhere.

In the living room, dog uteruses. In the attic, dog uteruses. In the drawers of my night table, dog uteruses. In the vegetable crisper, dog uteruses. My study is so packed with dog uteruses, I can't even get in there to spay dogs anymore. Where am I supposed to store all of these things?

Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about the work of spaying these dogs myself, or even the smell of decomposing canine reproductive systems, which I've come to accept and, to some degree, even enjoy. It's really just the issue of space. I tried lofting my bed to make more room for them, I ordered some of those space-age vacuum-sealed storage bags and stuffed them full to bursting—heck, I even used a few dozen to edge my garden. I used to be proud of my house, but now it seems like everywhere you look, there's a giant pile of dog uteruses.

I honestly don't even know how I've accumulated so many dog uteruses so fast. I guess it's like any other hobby: You start making model airplanes, then you have to build a special shelf to store them, then they start filling a bookcase, and before you know it, you've got a bloody, sopping-wet heap of dog uteruses in the trunk of your car.

What's really sad is that I've gotten so used to these dog uteruses that they just seem like part of the decor at this point. Just the other day, I caught myself setting the mail down on the waist-high stack of dog uteruses in my foyer. Last week, I had guests over, and when one of them asked where the bathroom was, I told her to "go down the hall, take a right at the third mound of discarded dog uteruses, and it's the second door on your left."

That's when you know you've got too many dog uteruses.

Before I left The Price Is Right, I tried to warn the new boy they've got hosting the show about all of this. On my last day, I handed him the skinny microphone, looked him square in the eye, and said, "Pretty soon, your whole basement is going to be swimming with dog uteruses." He just looked at me like he didn't know what I was talking about, but he'll learn soon enough.

Gee, I wonder how many dog uteruses I have at this point. Let's see, five dog hysterectomies a day, plus 20 on the weekends, times 52 weeks a year, times 37 years. That's what…90,000 dog uteruses? Wow, 90,000 dog uteruses. That's a lot. And that's not even counting all the cat uteruses.

At the risk of sounding ungrateful, I'd like to be able to use my dining room again. But I can't. It's packed floor to ceiling with German shepherd wombs. I can't even get a vacuum in there anymore, much less hold a dinner party. I'm not saying it's not worth it. When I think of how many poor pets I've saved from living the life of a stray—well, the growing pile of beagle testicles under my laundry chute just doesn't seem so big anymore. Although, when you consider that there's about 600 testes in that pile, I guess it is rather big after all.

And it's not like it's going to get any less cramped in here, especially now that I'm retired and I can really focus on castrating animals all day and all night. Pretty soon I'm going to have to get a bigger house to fit all these dog uteruses.

I only wish Rod Roddy, bless his soul, were still alive. He was always good to take a couple tubs of these things off my hands.


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