Dogma

As you well know, I have never considered myself a dog person.  We had a couple of dogs off and on while growing up, but I was never close to any of them, as they were never inside dogs.  There was one dog named Bananas that took up residence at our house when I was in middle school.  That dog lived to make my life miserable.

I made a weekly attempt at preparing pancakes for my family which would generally turn out to be inedible.  And so they were tossed out of the back door to Bananas.  Who would then carry them around in his mouth for an hour or so.  And then bury them.  Without fail.

But he really ruffled my feathers once when I tried to sneak out of my bedroom window late at night to meet up with some other delinquent type middle school friends.  As soon as I had one leg hanging down nearly to the ground, Bananas rounded the corner first growling, and then quietly biting me on the ankle.

Some time after that, Bananas mysteriously disappeared.  Not my fault.  Pinky swear.  It was probably the pancakes.

Another dog that took up with us was a large German Shepherd named Ben.  Ben was not gentle.  He “came with the house” when we moved to Mineral Wells, Texas.   Ben was the best watch dog in the world, but would only let me dad near him.  So I had a healthy respect for Ben as I kept my distance.  I never ever tried to sneak out of that house as I was certain that I would have been a hors d’oeuvre for Ben.  Ben stayed with us through another move, but had to be relocated out to the country with another family when he took to chasing and catching local joggers.

Then there was Max, the toy Pekinese, that I had in college.  He didn’t really count as a dog though, because he weighed 3 pounds soaking wet.  I never bonded with Max, and gave him to a rescue group that found him a wonderful home with a pasta chef.

For nearly 30 years I’ve remained dog-free and planned to stay that way.

Until Mater lumbered into our lives.  Mater, who is now tipping the scale at nearly 60 pounds, thinks he’s a lap dog.  He loves nothing more than to love and be loved on.  I’ve let him know that I’m not at all down with him licking my face, as the other members of the pack will allow him to do willy nilly.  I mean, come one, I’ve seen where his tongue has been.

And by the way, the plug-in pheromones that I talked about a few weeks ago ARE WORKING LIKE A CHARM.  I sewed up his $35 orthopedic bed and he has not tried to eat it since.

Tonight I was sitting on the couch and Mater curled up on my lap.  A wonderful moment of bonding ensued.  I say “moment” because as soon as I settled into the preciousness of the experience, Mater began licking his nether-regions with all the gusto he could muster.  And then he began LICKING MY LEG.  And such a stench arose.

DUDE.

I jumped up and ran into the kitchen, wherein Fiddledaddy announced that the distinct aroma of dog poop had wafted into the room with me.

So I ran to a different room.

The smell followed.  I could not escape it.  IT WAS ON ME.

I declared a time-out for myself, locked the bathroom door, and took a scalding hot bath.  And then burned my clothes.

Later I heard Fiddledaddy tell Mater, “Mommy is not down with that, either.”

One more episode like that and I’m going to have a pancake with Mater’s name written all over it.

Just kidding.  Sort of….

Have a wonderful weekend, my sweet friends.

November 4, 2011

7 Responses to Dogma

  • You just gave me my first good hearty laugh of the day. Thanks! As I type this my own four legged 55 lb lap dog just started whining to go out and chase squirrels. I am sooo glad he isn’t into licking our faces! Have a great day Dee Dee!

  • We had a large Irish Setter when I was growing up. She, too, was so loving and snuggly. I remember many Friday nights eating popcorn and watching Happy Days on the television while using the dog as a pillow. She was famous for licking with gusto and then swinging her head around to give “kisses.” The result was always kids screaming and popcorn flying.

    Ahh… fond memories!

  • Dogs are hard. For me at least. I love the IDEA of a dog though.

  • You’re such a great writer – you know just how to convey the humor of a situation, even one this disgusting! I’m laughing and grimacing at the same time. But I love dogs, and love how yours wants to be a lap dog just to be loved. That’s a really sweet picture of the two of you.

  • I relocated a dog once to a farm. That dog ate everything in sight, my $500.00 area rug, my new shoes, my furniture, it’s bed, my bed, my husbands glasses, etc, etc. I tried to love her, I really did! She had to go….when she bit a potential buyer for my home, and their realtor, and ruined the deal. My husband swears I gave her to an Aids research “farm” not a country farm. He was bitter! : ). I feel your love/hate relationship!

  • Hey there, I may be wrong, but that dog looks and ACTS just like my Vizsla, Cooper. They have that distinct dipped in chocolate from head to toe look, and they love nothing more than a warm lap and to kiss on the mouth (sometimes french if you aren’t careful- BLUCH!!), and that odor thing, sounds very familiar. I haven’t read here in a while, so maybe you’ve said if he is, but it sounds familiar. Love our Cooper, he is definitely the family favorite pet!

  • We had pups on the farm… I loved them and they never set foot in the house. Two years ago one of my daughters thought I needed a house puppy to keep me company. Bella didn’t last long. The wolves got her I guess and my kitty and I are happy as ever 🙂