Puppy Molestation
You should understand that Buddy is no ordinary dog. Yeah, I know, everybody thinks that about their dog … but there is something about Buddy Bear that invites above-and-beyond behavior from his devotees.
Case in point: Cousin Mary, a reasonably intact 80-something cousin of Robert’s who is otherwise essentially sane. She has a real jones for this seven-pound pup, and it’s totally reciprocated. He does love to shack up with Mary. When we’re getting close to her house, he starts to whimper and his whole body vibrates. We’re at MARY’S! Hot damn! Mary, who feeds him scrambled eggs, keeps a small bed for him beside her computer, and best of all, lets him sleep with her all night!
It gets better. When she’s through reading her book and slides down in the bed, Buddy gets up on her pillow, curls himself around her head, and spends the night like that. If he happens to bark (again), it doesn’t faze Mary, because she’s hard of hearing anyway. Such a deal for Buddy! What a hassle for Mary’s daughter Paula, who absolutely can hear him — but she is a fabulous good sport and happy to see Mary enjoy him so. She says fondly, “They make such a cute little couple.”
At Happy Tails, the doggie daycare place, Maria says everybody grins when Buddy arrives because he’s so full of joy. I asked her once what he does there all day. “He plays.” Well yeah, but what else? “That’s what he does all day. He plays all the time, with all the bigger dogs. The other little ones bore him. He takes a nap when it’s time to, but then he starts to play again. All day long.”
Maria takes him into what I think of as the airlock, a small chain-link staging area where a newcomer stays till the other dogs have smelled him — then he gets to join the gang. On the Happy Tails little closed-circuit camera aimed at the doggie playroom, I watched horrified one time when he entered the arena and all the other dogs piled on top of him. He absolutely disappeared. Then from the bottom, out squirmed this little black caterpillar pup and leaped back onto the pile.
When a considerably larger dog is in his vicinity, Buddy flops over on his back, showing his belly to acknowledge cheerfully that he’s submissive, then leaps up and starts the play. He is fearless except with lawnmowers, the vacuum cleaner (my sis calls it the Puppy Sucker), and people on wheels. Kid on a bike, dude on a motorcycle, Buddy barks in dismay. I think he can’t figure out what they are. Actually, come to think of it, he’s the same way with toddlers. Are they humans? Naaah, too small. Other animals? Naaah, don’t smell right. Woof!
The first time I picked him up from Happy Tails, when he was only about four months old, Rhonda the owner told me, “When you get him home, don’t worry if he seems sick. He’s just exhausted.” And so it’s been for the last three years. He comes home utterly pooped but happy. He plays zoom-puppy for us, of course, tear-assing around the house, cornering down the hall like a sports car, but we just aren’t lively enough for seven days a week — so we bless Happy Tails.
As for Moi, I confess an unnatural love for the Budster. I adore his gorgeous little body, with its deep chest and small waistline. He’s got the most adorable little cream-colored wishbone butt. I love how he’s chocolate on top and cream on his belly and legs, absolutely symmetrical.
Best of all is our armpit action. He rolls over on his back and I put my palm on his chest and a finger into each armpit, and gently massage him there. His eyes get slitty and every muscle goes limp. I feel like somebody should holler, “Get a room!”
Who would ever have guessed that puppy molestation could be such fun?
Cheers!
Roz
Tags: dogs, Family, love, musings, Relationships
