I guess I should explain but, somehow, I feel the explanation will also sound a little seedy. You see, it happened like this – my dogs are getting older. The elder (and smaller) of my pupperonis turned 11 in March. This makes him over 80 in the proverbial “dog years” equation. And while he’s still a fairly spry 80, he is showing his age in some areas. He’s cranky about people petting him when he doesn’t feel like it, if you don’t like getting your hand ripped off it’s best to let this sleeping dog lie (and his sleeping time is up to about 22 hours a day vs. the mere 20 hours he slept in his younger years), he takes pain meds for his “bad back” and, most significantly to this story, he can no longer leap tall buildings in a single bound. As a pup he could bounce his way over any obstacle, but now he no longer has the strength (or maybe it’s just the will – he is awfully apathetic nowadays) to hop onto my bed each night.
And the point is this – I got tired of listening to him whimper and whine each night when he couldn’t get up into bed so I broke down and bought him some doggy steps so that he could climb in that way (because that’s just how dog-gone bad our co-dependence is), even if they are hideous and totally ruin the otherwise perfect décor of my bedroom. But the problem is getting him to actually use these ugly stairs. You know what they say about teaching old dogs new tricks – well it isn’t easy. He just sits there and stares at the stairs (see what I did there?) and when you try to force his little paws onto the steps he flips out and runs away. Even when I have doggy crack (better known to you as “cheese”) waiting at the top for him as a reward.
But there is one thing that works. One thing that gets him to climb to the tippy top every time – my naked boobs.
It’s funny because I’ve never really thought they’re much to look at personally. Given the rampant childhood obesity rate we have right now your average third grade boy probably has moobs that are bigger than my pathetic little lady sacks. Nonetheless, my little Munchkin pup runs right up his doggy stairs every time I flash them for him. I mean, not in a creepy way … no really. It happened the first time as I was sitting on the bed changing into my pajamas. It was harmless really – I pulled off my bra and before I even had my sleep shirt on he had scurried up the stairs to greet me. I was excited that he finally did it – I didn’t even think a thing about the circumstances. Until he did it again a few days later, when I sat on the bed after I had gotten out of the shower and my towel slipped down a bit revealing my ta-tas. By the third similar such incident a pattern was emerging – and I wasn’t sure I was comfortable with the direction it was headed.
So I stopped his training. I let the stairs just sit there unused. But, little did I know, this was just the beginning. His dirty old man tendencies were about to go public.
You know when you see someone who has a giant scar on their face and you totally want to know what that’s all about but, of course, no one is rude enough to actually ASK how he/she got that scar? It’s bad manners, right? Then after awhile you just forget about the scar – it becomes normal to you and you don’t even notice it anymore. Then one day someone new comes in and says “Hey, what’s with Pat’s scar?” And all of a sudden you’re like “Oh, I haven’t even thought about that in ages!” Well my Munchkin’s wiener is sort of like that.
If you’ve met Munchkin before you totally get what I mean. But, if not, let me explain – his willy, johnson, peter, pecker – whatever you call it – hangs out at all times. Most dogs retract theirs unless excited or aroused, but not my Munchkin – he just lets his hang on out there 24-hours a day for the whole world to enjoy. And, while I can’t tell you exactly when this little “problem” of his started, I can say that it’s been this way so long now (at least 10 years) that I can’t even recall a time when this wasn’t the case. And, so, weird as it sounds, his dong hanging out in the open is just “normal” for me. I don’t even notice it anymore, and I never really think about it (unless I’m taking his picture. I’ve become a real master at cropping shots so that his little lipstick doesn’t show. But even then I’ve gotten so accustomed to cropping it out of photos that even that is so natural I don’t even think about it anymore). It’s just always there. Oh sure, I brought it up to the vet a few times but, aside from the “doctor” manipulating it back in there once using a disturbing amount of KY jelly while I just stood there watching my dog be semi-molested by a “trained professional” only to see the whole thing prove unsuccessful as Munchkin popped his red rocket right back out again once the whole thing was over, everyone at the vet’s office seemed to think it was just fine – “If it’s not bothering Munchkin then it shouldn’t bother you” they said. And so I’ve let it be.
Not that it isn’t still disgusting. Especially when he meets (or should I say “meats”) new people. He jumps on them, sits in their lap, begs to be held by them – all while he rests his little prick on them (he also enjoys sitting in the middle of a group of people and just licking it endlessly for hours in plain sight of everyone – but I really think this behavior is just macho showoff mentality that all men would employ if they had the ability). So, yes, playing with my dog does come with a warning – watch out, if he jumps up on your lap you might end up with some naked dog penis resting on your exposed flesh! And the first few times I took him to the groomer they didn’t know how to approach trimming his fur “down there.” But over time it just became a thing that was known. My friends were aware (and knew to be cautious), the groomers learned how to aim their razors at just the right spots, the vets overlooked it and we all pretended we didn’t see it for awhile.
Until one day I took him to a doggy day camp. You know, so he could get out a little – feel like a young pup again. But I didn’t even think – I’m so used to it now that it didn’t even cross my mind – that suddenly I’d be exposing his disgusting display of constantly aroused manliness to a whole new group of people. And they were, apparently, alarmed by it. They thought perhaps the camp was too “stimulating” for him. They were concerned about how he could be THAT EXCITED by camp ALL DAY. In short, they were calling him that dirty old man who lurks around playgrounds and stares just a little too intensely at the children playing there. They thought he was a pervert. And, frankly, given the recent boob incidents I’m not sure I can argue with them. But I will tell you one thing – ever since he came home from camp that day he’s been jumping right up onto the bed again like the old days … no stairs needed. GAR thinks that being at camp with all those younger dogs renewed his sprightliness but I have another theory – much like 50-year-old cougars apply thick makeup and tight leopard print dresses clearly designed to be worn by women half their age in an effort to trick young men into thinking they’re 19 again, I think my Munchkin is in training … preparing for the next time he goes back to doggy camp … so that he can pass for a younger, more athletic dog and maybe bag himself a hot little Pekinese.
Hmph … men … no matter how old they are they always think they can get the young ones.
Incidentally I’ve recently been turned on to the site Dog Shaming, where people post photos of their pooches next to handwritten signs declaring their wrongdoings. “I eat dirty underwear” and “I crapped in the baby’s crib” – stuff like that. But I wouldn’t dream of doing that to poor Munchkin (no, I only shame him in long form essay style on my personal blog). But my other dog – Mister Mustache – well, I might consider turning him in to the site. That sicko has a fetish for watching ladies do their business on the toilet. But that’s a story for another day.
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