Kelly Conaboy DNA-tests her rescue dog, Peter Parker, in a bid to silence a know-it-all, loudmouth schnook at the dog park who thinks he can deduce Peter’s canine heritage at a glance. In Peter’s results, Conaboy gets a pleasant surprise.

I wanted to know what he was because I want to know everything I can about him, and because I wanted to shove it in the face of any goddamn rude know-it-all men I came across in the future.

Oh, you would like to know even more about Peter? If you insist. He has velvet ears. He has a spotted tongue. When he walks down the stairs, at his moderately paced gentleman’s trot, you can tell he’s a bit bow-legged. He has the heart of an angel and the soul of a poet, and there’s a hint of sadness to him that makes you want to protect him against all of the world’s harshness. He has whiskers that are so prominent they make you second-guess whether whiskers are a typical dog trait, or whether he could potentially be part mouse. He will sit his big, fat butt on your lap like he’s tiny, when he is actually 25 pounds. He’s affectionate, but not needy. “He’s just so…kind,” is how a cousin of mine once described him, and it’s true: he’s just so kind. Also he loves to burrow under the covers, and he loves to sleep with his head on a pillow like a tiny little man.

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