nervousrek

nervousrek
Location
NORTH HAVEN, Connecticut, USA
Birthday
June 06
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chapter11 booksellers
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The following Blog is based on real events.The names have been changed to protecxt the writer.

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APRIL 29, 2012 2:08PM

Slut Dog

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dog pix"I think I want a dog" I said as we took a walk down our street.

"Everyone has a dog, look they have a dog,” I pointed to our neighbor’s yard.

"Don't you like those dogs over there" I said pointing to a group of small dogs yelping.

"Who’s going to walk the dog?" she asked as we passed the chorus of canines.

Indeed it was a good question. It was true that I have trouble getting up in the morning or staying up too late at night. My sons had proved themselves totally irresponsible when it came to household chores. It was she, my wife who somehow managed and coordinated all of our domestic responsibilities.

"I'll walk the dog!" I said confidently enough to almost believe myself.

"You'll walk the dog?" she said accusingly. "You know you can't rely on the boys, so if we get a dog you're going to have to be responsible for it."

There was that word again, responsible. I was already responsible for my four children, a responsibility I often found daunting. As I was already done with the ass wiping portion of my parenting, it did seem foolhardy to take on a dog especially a puppy.

"Hey, what if we got an older dog, something that didn't require a lot of training?"

"Someone still has to be responsible for taking care of it."

"Me, of course I'll do it." I said although I felt my argument was not very compelling.

In truth I had promised my sons at some point, when, I did not know, if we were living in the right place, and they have proven themselves worthy, and by some miraculous chance I had an ounce of energy to spare, we might under certain conditions get a dog.

There had never been a right time but now as I was embarking on my fourth year of unemployment I did have an ounce of energy to spare, and at times I felt the companionship of the dog would really give me a lift.

A few weeks passed and we were once again walking past the chorus of singing dogs.

"Look” I said “aren't they adorable”

I walked closer to the dogs but they stayed where they were. “The owners must've installed an electronic fence.” I said

"You can't say they're not cute they really are cute aren't they cute” I persisted. Perhaps they were cute but all she saw were four rodent size animals yapping as we walked by.

I decided not to pursue the issue any longer. I concluded long ago that it's never a good idea to talk someone into something that was your idea. As time passes they come to resent you for your suggestion or worse blame you for their own lapse in judgment. In either case I could ill afford to throw a wrench into my relationship over a dog.

Then one day, unsolicited she announced "I think you should get a dog."

"Really?" I said not quite convinced

"For your birthday, you can get a dog for your birthday." she said nearly convincing me that it might really be at all possible.

Once she married the dog to my birthday it was hard not to follow up with the idea. Like a scene from a Disney movie the idea of getting a dog on my birthday had all the romance and charm of the fabricated world in which all Disney movies live.

"Really, my birthday?" I asked trying to contain my excitement.

"I want you to have a dog, I want you to be happy." She continued.

And so it happened, I would soon be the owner of a dog of my choosing.

"What do you think of the name Murray” I asked

"I like it but it has to be a girl dog." She answered

"A girl dog?" I said disappointed

"I don't like girl dogs I want a boy dog, I’m a boy dog kind of person." I argued

She was emphatic it was a girl dog or no dog at all. Why not a boy dog I wanted to know. She didn't like the dog penis. She didn't leave me much to argue with. I imagine dogs much like their human counterparts love their penises. It certainly wasn't the kind of thing you could minimize, so I conceded and agreed to a girl dog.

A few weeks later my son and I went online to Petfinder.com and went looking for a girl dog. I didn't explain the details about the girl dog to my son and he didn't ask. We scanned the photos and read the bios of each dog.

Summer is in pitbull terrier mix. She is two years old.  She loves to play catch and can follow a few simple commands. She is ideal for a family with mature children and has some food guarding issues. She also will flinch if you move too fast around her.

Summer was our dog. While eating our lunch my son and I renamed her Sydney. Before buying a leash and collar I thought it was a good idea that we go and meet the dog.

In the intervening week I showed pictures and videos of summer to my wife who seemed less than enthusiastic about our new dog Sydney. Whatever the reason and I didn't dare ask, she showed no interest in the dog.

The following weekend we looked up the address of the animal shelter to check out the dogs. I may have mentioned Summer once or twice but made it clear that I was open to the idea of any dog. We would know it when we saw or should I say saw her.

As we walked into the animal shelter I was accosted by the smell of wet dog hair and fur. I wondered if my house would smell like this if I had a dog, but ignored the thought and I signed us in. I overheard one of the volunteers tell my wife that the dog she had in the corral was in fact our dog Summer. It annoyed me that they were calling her Summer as we had already renamed her Sydney, but I refrained from making any comment.

My son and I went into the corral and pet Sydney. The volunteer showed us how to get the dog to sit and handed us some treats to give the dog. My wife stood reluctantly outside the corral wrinkling her nose as we let the dog lick our faces and slobber all over us. When I asked her what was wrong she just shook her head as if to say, not my kind of dog.

We walked through the kennel and looked at several other dogs. Each had a card attached to its cage listing the numerous emotional problems that the dog had. The volunteers would quickly minimize these problems reassuring us that it was nothing that the right family couldn't fix. Several of the dogs had already had litters of puppies but the animal shelter's policy was to fix or neuter any animal before its adoption so I wasn't concerned.

That night as we were lying in bed I asked my wife why she didn't like the dog.

"Did you see it's tail, did you, did you see it's tail?" She asked as if the answer were obvious.

"What? It had a black spot on it that was all I saw. Don’t you like the spot?” I asked

"Nooooo,”  she whined, "you know, the tail" except when she said it she made a motion like she just got the chills.

Finally she confessed

"The dogs vagina, didn't you see the dogs vagina?"

"The vagina?" I said aghast "Why are you looking at the dog’s vagina?"

"I wasn't looking." She said shaking her head

"It was just, you know, there."

"The vagina?" I repeated not sure what any of this meant. "You wanted a girl dog. This is what a girl dog has, what do we do about the vagina?"

What could I do? Perhaps if I looked more closely I would've noticed it too but I hadn't and she had. The following day my son suggested we get a eunuch.

Later that week I asked her again what it was, about the dog’s vagina that bothered her so, but she could never quite articulate it. The only thing she could say was something about animals needing more hair in certain spots and mentioned something about an orangutan.

My son asked her why she didn't like the dog.

“It already had a litter" she said shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head. "Sluts, all those dogs were sluts.

 Later I asked her what she meant by sluts. After all, it’s not as though the dogs could use birth control

"Did you see that row of nipples?" she asked

"I saw them, but you said we had a get a girl dog so I thought that's what a girl dog looks like." I answered

"What are you going to do when the dog rolls over on its back to be pet, are you going to pet all those nipples? “she demanded

"Nipples, that's what this is all about, nipples?" I asked as my voice rose higher.       

“How are you going to pet those nipples. What are you going to do, pet around them” she added      

I hadn’t thought about it but I suppose I would get used to the nipple, but the more we talked about the dogs genitals the less I wanted a dog, any dog.

“They’re like a landmine she countered.”

Can’t you just ignore those parts of the dog? I asked

But no she could not. I suppose when she saw the dog it was all genitals and a little fur on the side.

She kept looking for dogs on-line but I finally had to confess to her that she had killed the image I had of me riding in my pick up with a dog by my side. Now all I pictured was me riding around town with a vagina and nipples. Not so much birthday fun.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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