Doggygasm



Sophie the Mutt



Growing up it seemed that we always had animals. My mom and sister were the cat owners and I was always trying to talk my dad into keeping every dog that wandered up to the yard. He would attempt to talk me out of if by trying to explain that it was hard work. You’ll have to walk it, feed it and pick up after it…blah, blah, blah. I didn’t hear shit except, “I guess.” We would take it in, I would bath it, name it and we’d buy a bag of food, then it would somehow go missing. As a kid I assumed that they ran off. As an adult I started to become aware of how. We didn’t have a fence so we would keep it in the screened in porch, it would tear out a screen, take a dump on the porch and my dad, I assume, would “help” with the disappearing act that seemed to always follow. From this, I’ve grown up understanding that the commitment of owning a dog is a large responsibility that one needs to carefully consider before adopting a critter.  I. Don’t. Want. A. Dog… Apparently it wasn’t up to me.

My wife tends to jump on every bandwagon the kids drag up. This time it was “We want a dog”. I won’t even try to begin to explain the Indian-giving incident that began the overflow of whining. Needless to say, they all rushed out of the house awhile back on a mission to go see a litter of “poodles” that a woman had suggested. They came home with a $150 mutt named Sophie. Was she cute? Yes. Mutt? Yes. I warned them all. You’ll have to feed it, bath it, teach it potty training, cause if it shits and pee’s in my house it will “run off”. Umm hmm. Right. Wasn’t long before I was bathing… I was feeding.. I was watering… I was paying the vet bill… I pick the eye boogers out… I was picking shit out of her fur because she stood up before she would pinch off the turd.  See a trend here? I was the proud owner and sole care giver to a new dog I didn’t want.  But like my kids, I have a soft spot for animals. So I began the training and to my surprise she’s turned out to be a pretty good dog.

I work from home and therefore I spend a lot of time alone. Just me and the dog. What do I do? I talk to her. I get bored and she’s the only one to talk to. I find myself asking her questions. “Did you see that?” Referring to a commercial on television. “You hungry?” Like she’s gonna turn to me and say something like; “Hell yeah! Make me a grilled cheese!”  Either way, I stumbled across something. There’s a magic phrase I can say that moves her heaven and earth. One that makes everything in the world go away. Tunnel vision ensues and all else matters not…. “Wanna go for a ride?”

OH SHIT!!! HE JUST SAID RIDE!!! MOVE OUTTA MY WAY DAMMIT!!! GET LEASH!!! IT’S BACK HERE, MORON!! ON THE DOOR!!! RIGHT THERE!!! PUT IT ON ME!!! OH SHIT, YEAH!!! RIDE, RIDE, RIDE!!!

Doggygasm. BAM! It’s something anyone that owns a dog has seen.  The one, single word, that immediately puts them into that euphoric state of overwhelming bliss.  I don’t just throw the “R” word around. I take it serious, as does she. You don’t start a Doggygasm unless you’re gonna let her finish. Right? Well now. There was my yesterday.

Al comes home with our littlest, Em on their way to dance and she had picked up Lo, my buddy’s daughter and Al’s sister (don’t ask. that’s for a later entry). I offer to take Lo home in an effort to save Al the extra time and it would give Sophie the chance to get her bliss on, as this is usually the time of day I venture out to pick up one or two of my girls to shuffle them off to their respective after school spots.  What I didn’t know was that Al had promised the girls that she would take them together and Em exploded into a shit fit the moment I told Lo to get her stuff AND right after I drop the “R-Bomb” on Sophie. So naturally, the dog comes last. “Go ahead girls. I’ll be there to pick Em up in an hour. Bye!”

Well now… I have Sophie on the end of what she believes to be a very short leash, experiencing her moment of pleasure. What the hell am I supposed to do? I reckon most would pull off the leash and go back to some important chore or continue some unfinished business and let the poor thing go blue. But you have to see it to understand. I couldn’t let her down like that. So I wait till the girls disappear off into the distance and I open the front door.  All 10lbs of this mutt attempts to drag my 250lbs to the truck. She hops in and assumes the position at the window smearing snot across my tinted glass. I really had nowhere to be. I think to myself that it’s rather stupid to drive her around the block, and I sure as hell am not walking this girly looking mutt around the neighborhood. So what to do? We go to the gas station to fill up the truck, she gets her bliss on, and we return to the house where she can take her normal “I just had a doggygasm, nap.” and I don't let her down.

Like I said before; I didn’t want a dog. But I'm a softy like that.

J.C.