Baxter doesn’t even know his own father.

Due to some unfortunate circumstances, which I won’t go into now, I have been “hanging out” with my parents a lot this week. As I made my way to my parents’ home last weekend I was careful to blast Daughtry’s “Home” in my ipod to make me feel like I was in a sad American Idol-style farewell video.

Well, after two days of hanging out with my folks I was already being peppered with, “Why are you out so late?” (answer – because some documents needed to be read and whose going to read them? You? You Lt. Weinberg?) and “When are you getting up for work?” (answer – as soon as you pack my lunch and put me on the school bus).

But it was not until Valentine’s Day, five days since I’d gone to my folks, until I saw Baxter (not romantically). For those of you that don’t know Baxter is the Beagle I bought LB, who apparently likes to play near the window. I just hope the screens are always on the 19th floor windows.

Now I think he felt abandonned and he acted like he didn’t know me. His mother probably peppered him with stories about how I didn’t care about him (true) and how I was out playing with other Beagles and their mothers (not true). He had gotten big and I think he thought he was the man of the house. After all he does sh-t wherever he wants to. This is why being the parent of an as-hole must be the worst. In Baxter’s case I rescued him from a pet store, where he was repeatedly made a bitch by his two shitzhu cellmates. I fed him for two weeks, cleaned up his poop and after five days he acts like I don’t exist. Maybe he is just feeling pride in seeing Uno the Beagle win the Westminster Dog Show. That’s nothing a few viewings of Amoros Perros can’t cure.

So to escape I have been immersing myself in litigation, which is the mental equivalent of committing suicide via paper cut. If Morgan Freemon were here I think he would be screaming, “You know what staring at cases and computer screens does – it kills your brain cells so, it kills your brain cells. So if you’re going to kill yourself don’t f-ck around – do it expeditiously!”

(When I saw Lean on Me I was only 10 or 11, but I did not know what expeditiously meant and I was pretty sure the fat crackhead Sams did not know either).

Anyway, things could be worse. That’s why I’m visiting Childrens’ Hospital tomorrow with comedian Mick Diflo (inside joke – if you don’t know it – watch his myspace video – brilliant comedian).