Wade Rouse - Im Not the Biggest Bitch in This Relationship: Hilarious, Heartwarming Tales About Mans Best Friend from Americas Favorite Humorists

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Table of Contents

Praise for Wade Rouses Memoir

Its All Relative: Two Families, Three Dogs,
34 Holidays and 50 Boxes of Wine

Damn you, Wade! I missed two eBay auctions and delayed taking my Ambien every night for a week so I could finish Its All Relative, but it was so worth it. This book rocks! Charming, funny, and saucy enough to make me blush.

Laurie Notaro, New York Times bestselling author of We Thought You Would Be Prettier

Wade Rouses books combine the one-two punch of hilarity and heart and never cease to delight. Filled with uproarious one-liners and enough soul to truly satisfy, readers are going to clamor for a seat at Rouses holiday table. I cant tell you how much I loved this book.

Jen Lancaster, New York Times bestselling author of If You Were Here

Wade Rouse has officially become the laugh assassin.... [His] remembrances of his family holidays are masterfully gift-wrapped in delightful dysfunction and topped with a bow of laser-sharp sentimental insight designed to help you not only laugh at but also fall in love again with your own jacked-up gene pool. This book is the gift that keeps on giving.

Josh Kilmer-Purcell, star of The Fabulous Beekman Boys and New York Times bestselling author of The Bucolic Plague

Praise for Wade Rouses Memoir

At Least in the City Someone Would Hear Me Scream:
Misadventures in Search of the Simple Life
A Today Show Summer Must Read

A wise, witty, and often wicked voice.

USA Today

Rouse is a master raconteur and his transition from city slicker to country mouse is filled with sidesplitting humor, heart, and, of course, bands of marauding raccoons. This book has now taken its place at the top of my favorites list!

Jen Lancaster

A funny, good-natured chronicle of a fish out of water, slowly learning to breathe.

Tom Perrotta, New York Times bestselling author of The Abstinence Teacher

In the spirit of David Sedaris, a laugh-out-loud funny book!

John Searles on NBCs Today show

You laugh when you least expect toand then you realize youve been laughing almost nonstop.

Detroit Free Press

This is David Sedaris meets Dave Berry.... Every page is good for a laugh.

Library Journal

Immensely entertaining.

A. J. Jacobs, New York Times bestselling author of The Year of Living Biblically

For Marge
July 16, 1997April 11, 2011

Fourteen years, five books, three major life changes, thousands of
walks, millions of kisses, billions of silent farts, zillions of snuggles,
infinite belly rubs, laughs and treats

and one man whose life has forever been changed by one rescue
dogs unconditional love. You helped teach me it was OK to love
again, with wild abandon, heart be damned.

For Mabel

You make me laugh. You remind me to play like a child. You sleep on
my legs until they are numb. You wake me at dawn to start the day.
You were your sisters keeper.

My Best Paw Foreword

Chelsea Handlers Dog, Chunk

Hello. My name is Chunk Handler.

Im a chow mixed with a handsome dash of German shepherd. Im a dog. A canine. A mutt. A fleabag. I have four furry legs and a missing pair of nuts, and I refer to most girls as bitches. I dream in color, but my life is in black and white.

Lets go on a walkcareful though, I tend to pull the leash. Dont forget a plastic baggie, because I tend to take big dumps. My mom is Chelsea Handler. Shes a comedian, a television host, and a bestselling author. If you dont know who she is, dont worry. When I met her I had no idea who she was, either. Thats probably because I dont watch the E! channel. I mainly enjoy classic film noir, but I also like any dating show that involves a slut bus.

When I was approached to contribute to this book, I was naturally annoyed. I mean what... a pain in the ass. Typically, the only thing I like to do with an ass is sniff it. The idea of writing a foreword for a book about a bunch of idiots and their mutts sounded awful, but it did get me thinking about where I came from. Im a long walk away from where I was about a year ago. Once upon a time, I was just some poor shelter pooch with an expiration date. I was like a carton of spoiling milk.

Just one year ago...

It was springtime in Los Angeles; the irony that everything else was in bloom all around me while I was in my dire situation wasnt lost on me. I was stuck at the West Los Angeles Animal Shelter, and it was the day I was sentenced to be assassinated. They were going to electrocute me in a cute little doggy electric chair. Everything thats little and doggy usually sounds so adorable, but an electric chair sounds sick. I dont believe thats how they were actually going to kill me. Its just a little gallows humor.

So, humor me.

I thought Id get shot by a firing squad or something.

Heres a rule of non-opposable thumb: If you ever end up in a place with the word shelter in it, lifes not going great for you. Like a bomb shelter. Thats pretty bad. Or, if youre sheltered as a kid, and when you grow up you cant relate to the adult world. Its like how most men expect to have sex on the first date. Youre kind of screwed there, too.

Most dogs dont care much about dying. We dont sit around fearing the end on a daily basis like humans do. You never see a dog with a cardboard sign hanging around his neck that says The End Is Near. The only end I want near... is a rear end. But when its actually happening to you, I dont care if youre a dog or a bumblebee or a little cell inside a dumb fish, you wont want to die. Trust me, girl.

The biggest regret about my life is that I never felt like I was a part of anything. I always felt more like I was apart from everything. Its funny how a part and apart are complete opposites, yet only differ by a little space.

God, Im deep.

My entire life Id been passed around from one family to the next more times than the common cold. Ive gone by a dozen different names, from Cinnamon to Escalade. It was a black family that named me Escalade. What a shocker. Nothing against black people, they just come up with really stupid names. I mean, white people are crazy, too. This one hick from Texas named me Booger. He would always try to feed me his boogers. What an a-hole. Right now, my name is Guinness. I hate that name, it sounds so pedestrian for a dog of my taste.

On the other paw, I guess it doesnt really matter what my name is. A name is just a sound that someone utters to get someone else to turn around. You could call me Litter Box Dump and Id be fine with that. So, go off.

I suppose what this all adds up to is that Ive never been a good enough dog to capture the heart of just one person who could love me forever. Its probably my fault.

In fact, somehow Ive earned the reputation in the shelter world as being a problem dog. Please dont ever give a dog a reputation. Its a loser thing to do. Were just who we are.

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