Monday, February 08, 2010

Bad Dog!
It's been a long time since I had a dog, but not nearly long enough! The crazed canine that put an end to my dog-owning desires (after 13 l-o-n-g years) was "Benny," a male wirehair fox terrier. We got him when he was an adorable puppy, all white, orange and grey fluff, with big brown eyes and an eager, playful personality. He remained a lovable, friendly, entertaining dog while he was in the house, with my husband, kids and I, but as soon as he would step out the door, there'd be trouble. (I should mention that this was back in the 'seventies, in a town where there were no leash laws.) Benny lived for two activities: fighting and fucking. He was the cave man of dogs. Any male dog who ventured near our yard was fair game. In spite of Benny's small stature, he was so ferocious and had such long, sharp teeth, that he usually came out on top. It was horrifying to see and very difficult to break up those fights. I won't go into the grisly details here.
Female dogs, on the other hand, were treated with enthusiastic affection. One particularly entertaining event stands out in my memory. At the time, we were living in a nice, Mormon neighborhood in Salt Lake City. Our neighbors across the street had several kids, the oldest of whom was a 7 year-old girl (Kathy). They also had a girl dog (Suzy). One afternoon, kids and dogs were outside playing. I heard a knock on the door. It was Kathy, looking agitated.
"Mrs. M! Your dog is stuck in our dog!"
I looked outside, and there was Benny, "stuck" in Suzy. Apparently, the fun part was over, but deflation had not happened yet. The funniest part was that they were facing away from each other, looking quite uncomfortable, even embarrassed, if you will forgive me for anthropomorphizing.
I told Kathy not to worry, that her doggy wasn't hurting, and they would get "unstuck" soon, which they did, of course. But a few months later, Kathy's family was "stuck" with a litter of fluffy puppies.
Thinking back on those times, I am amazed that no one ever shot our dog, or called the police, or at least demanded that we lock the horny little S.O.B. up. And I am more than a little ashamed of how irresponsible we were to have let him run free. In my defense, I will say that I begged my (now ex) husband to have Benny neutered, but he refused. Actually, I would have been happy to neuter both Benny and my husband, but I didn't have the balls.


fingers said...

We had the same problem with our two boxers back in the 80s, Z.
Managed to control their amorous activities by getting my sister to give them both handjobs before we let them out...but never did work out how to stop them fighting...

Harry said...

The good thing about having dogs in the 70s was you didn't have to follow them around picking up turds. I don't care how PC it is, there is just something wrong with that. Benny lived his life so modern mutts would have a model to for living vicariously. Not sure the same worked for the EX.

Funny, Fingers solving problems with handjobs.

Nice one Madam!