I’m just going to come right out and say it: it’s extremely hard to concentrate on writing while your dog is slurping his crotch like a snow cone. Hey, I know dogs bath themselves with their tongue. I get that their customs are not my customs, and that their tongues go places usually reserved for porn or torture, but for goodness sakes, can’t they be a little bit more discrete about it? It’s a fervent, sloppy, ramen noodle-slurping event that lasts far longer than the needed time required to swab the area in question.
I hope I’m not the only one so annoyed by it that I’m willing to get up and physically remove my dog’s head from his crotch. It’s not what he’s licking, it’s how he’s licking it. The half suction, lip smacking; it grates on me, like eating with a person who chew with their mouth open, except instead of eating spaghetti it’s neutered genitals.
“Buddy,” I say like some friend ready to dispense advice, “It doesn’t work anyway, so you don’t have to clean it up for anyone. Chew your bone,”—a bad choice of wording an alternate, I admit—“I mean, chew your rope,”—not much better—“I mean, chew your Kong…ah Jesus, why does every dog toy have to be so sexual! You know what, forget it. Have a blast. You’re living the dream of a lot of men, who am I to stop you?”
As soon as I let go of him, it’s a full faceplant back in.
This conversation, albeit short, makes me think of the way I talk to Xylo. I hate it when people talk to their dog when they know their dog has no idea what they’re saying. My mom does it, full on conversations like the dog and her graduated from the same high school, or can both remember the taste of New Coke. “Oh Jackson, you wouldn’t like to live in a cage would you? You like be a free-range dog, don’t you? You’re glad that the democrats are sending a America to hell so the GOP can take back the country and save us all from that SOB Obama, aren’t you?” Why all the yes or no questions, mom? Has the dog ever said yes or no to you in it’s life?
She’d tell me she can tell when he is saying yes or no, and that just makes me think she is crazy. I mean, don’t folks realize that when they talk to a dog using sentences that don’t include eating, crapping or punishment, they are just talking to themselves? They are just making the dog their yes-men, or woman, to dump their ideal interaction, or role play.
Maybe that’s the point though? Maybe that’s why some people get them, to have some one to talk too? And there is a lot of ways to talk to them. The blithering baby talk, “Who’s mommies special little puppy, you are, you are, aren’t you, yes you are, oooo, boo, boo, boo, boo booo.” God, gag me.
Then there are guys that talk to their dogs like they’re idiots: “Hey dummy, get your ass in the car. Hey stupid, let’s go for a walk. Come’eer ya moron. Sit stupid.” What I find ironic is, most of the people who talk to the dog this way, aren’t that much smart then the dog.
I’m probably the worst though. I’m the kind of guy so desperate for social approval, I work a conversation with my dog into some stand up routine. Like the dog is an prop for humor. Yeah, he’s sucking his genitals, but I can’t just say “stop it,” or “no,” I have to say “keep living the dream son.” Pathetic.
Besides, the humor is wasted. The dog probably only hears what we hear when Charlie Brown’s teacher talks. But what if he can hear me and thinks my material sucks harder than he… of forget it.
People talk to their animals. I never wanted to be one of those weirdos but It’s kinda un avoidable. It’s also part of the fun of owning the animal. The dog can’t boo you off stage, or call you names back, or change party affiliation. It has to learn the way you talk to it because it depends on you. And, I guess, after a while, you kinda depend on it to listen.
Bake a cookie, win a book!
