You're blind and you keep getting hit by buses.

When you get to the breakfast table, you notice his crotch is wet and your coffee tastes like balls.

Your name is Michael Vick.

He allows minorities on your property.

He won't hump your leg.  Or is that a good thing?  Sorry, my idea of fun may differ from yours.

His butt-scootching skid marks across your carpet spell out "Hate U."

He refuses to act as clever and hilarious as Marmaduke.

The hole he digs in the backyard?  Exactly six-feet deep.

He enthusiastically retrieves the paper, but saddens when you're not listed in the obituaries.

You had him neutered, didn't you?

He points to where his jewels used to be, then makes a throat-cutting motion.

His favorite chew toy is your throat.