Doggie style

Once upon a time we used to have a dog.  A great dog.  A fabulous dog.  And his dog name was Zane.  He still is a great dog, but now he has great owners.  Owners who don’t have kids.  Owners who plan their day around him.  Who spend their weekends in nature preserves so he can run off his leash.   Owners who don’t freak out when he runs out of the woods with a deer leg in his mouth.  Who had a tote made with his name embroidered on it.  Who take him to Nantucket.  We have firmly established that Zane is MUCH happier with his new owners.

But this is a story from when he slummed with us.  

Picture the middle of the night.  In a dark, COLD house in upstate New York.  A house without a hubunit because he was working.  Did I mention that it was FREAKIN’ COLD out?  Picture an old, brick, cape cod house that oozed charm from it’s crown molding to it’s wood floors to it’s original windows that let in all that COLD air in the middle of winter.   Ok, so you got that it was cold? 

Good.  Now picture me waking up from a very sound sleep to a strange sound coming from the corner of the room where Zane had his bed.  This was such a polite dog that he wouldn’t bark when he needed to go outside, but would simply stand next to my bed and shift from foot to foot.  If that didn’t wake me, he would gently whine.  This was neither of those sounds.  In my sleep stupor I sat up and squinted thru the darkness.  ‘Zane?’  A quiet whine and still the noise.  ’Zane, go to bed.’  He went to bed.  For one second and then he was up again making that weird swishing noise.  Repeat that a few times before it occured to me to flounce out of bed and turn the light on.  My very miserable looking dog was busy dry humping the air.  Rolling pleading eyes at me.  Here’s me,  ‘What???’  So I take him outside.  He runs off into the dark backyard and all I hear is silence.  Oh yeah, did I mention it was FUCKING COLD standing there by the door while my air humping dog was running around in the back yard in the dead of night?

Zane comes back in and I tell him to go to bed.  I turn out the light and slip my numb feet under the covers.  A few minutes later, the swishing sound is back.  WHAT THE FUCK?? 

Now I’m in a really FABULOUS mood, so I turn on the light and contemplate doggiecide.  But he just looks so miserable with his tail tucked under and his little humper going a mile a minute.  And he was not having a good time.  If he’d been enjoying himself he might not be alive today to experience what a difference it makes to have GREAT NEW OWNERS.  But he was miserable so I relented and tried to figure out what I could do to help.  And YES, that thought did cross my mind.  Am I going to have to jerk off my dog so I can get some friggin’ sleep??? 

Oddly, the fact that hubunit wasn’t there made that idea more . . . palatable.  If he had been there, we’d have been all ‘YOU do it.’  ‘No, YOU do it.’  And then I’d have been nervous, cause he would have been watching my technique, possibly giving me pointers.  Plus, he’d have that mental picture in his head for all time.  And I’m the mother of his child.  I think, nope, I’M PRETTY SURE, dog-jacker-offer trumps baby-mama.   

I went over and felt around Zane’s back a little bit and realized that somehow his tail had gotten locked into the curled under position and it must have been, um, tickling something inside which translated into ‘If they only made blow up doggie dolls.’

Once I managed to work the kink out of his tail he was instantly a happy, content dog who went right over to his bed and laid down.  Then he asked me for a cigarette.  And I gave him one.