Skateboard on cement sounds exactly like a dog’s growled invitation to play. With the board’s speed added, it’s an irresistible lure. When I hear one far off, I grit my teeth and say to myself, I’m a good boy, I won’t chase, I won’t chase, but when that board gets close enough, the sound penetrates right through all my training down to the core of my soul, and in an instant of ecstasy I go for the board. I’ve never actually bitten one, of course; by the time I get there I figure out that it’s just a young human, not a dog. Or else the leash catches me.
I’m very pretty. It’s not just my owner who says so, everyone does. I’m a whippet, a very big whippet, so people think I’m a greyhound. But greyhounds are aloof, they never bound up to people looking to be petted — I always do. My guy even tells me, “Go say hello!” when he spots a good mark, and I do, but sometimes all they want to do is give you their hand to sniff — what’s that about? My greyhound friends think I’m a slut, but I don’t mind, it gets me lots of scratching, stroking, lots of attention.
Actually, my guy, Jonathan, is pretty cool. He knows where and how, to scratch and pet. He takes me out when I have to go, he plays chase or tug-of-war when he knows I need it, he gives me food. If he only stayed at home more, he’d be perfect. He laughs when I do something stupid like chase a damn skateboard, but he’s not so smart himself. He does the same thing I do half the time, ignoring all his training.
People seem to be very particular who they want to wrestle with; Jonathan likes other guys. Me, I don’t discriminate — male, female, canine, feline, human, anything that lets me hump them. No skunks anymore, though; one was quite enough.
So my guy sometimes brings home people to wrestle with. It’s kind of boring so I usually go sleep in the living room. One time, though, I heard some yipping from the bedroom, so I ran back just in case Jonathan was in trouble. He wasn’t; it was the other guy getting excited. Ho hum.
Too many of these “guests” are real creeps. How do I know? Well, they don’t even stop to pet me! I want to tell my guy, A man who won’t pet a dog isn’t worth spending time with! But he doesn’t understand.
I’m right about them being creeps. While they’re here, my guy is happy, almost like me when I’m expecting to get petted, but when the other guy goes away, it’s often silence. I feel it
when we go for a walk. No, he’s not one of those owners who take out their nasty feelings on the dog, but he’s too quiet. Usually when we’re walking he talks to me in his nice voice, but when he’s upset, he’s silent.
There was one guy, Roger, who didn’t even want to stay at our place. He took Jonathan out and left me alone, and no, he didn’t pet me even a little. My guy came home later on, and they hadn’t been wrestling at all — I can smell it, of course. That was one very, very quiet walk we had that night. But here’s the point: My guy knows he should stay away from creeps, but whoever the other guy is does something that’s just like a skateboard, and my guy is wagging his tail like crazy.
Later on, I heard Jonathan on the phone talking about Roger. It turns out Roger is married. That’s what Jonathan said. Then after a moment, Jonathan said, “He didn’t have a ring on. And I met him through match.com!” After that, my guy said something like, he wasn’t going to see Roger ever ever again.
But guess what? Roger calls a week or two later, and I can see that Jonathan is holding himself back. He says No, but his hand goes right to his crotch. That night, Roger actually shows up at our door. Jonathan tries to say No again, but Roger grabs him and gives him this big kiss, and runs his hands all over Jonathan’s body, what he could have been doing for me, too. You know what happens next.
But it’s even worse: Roger tells Jonathan to lock me in the bathroom! And my guy, my Jonathan, actually does it. So, I start whining – “Oh, poor me, my master has locked me away” – and then I start howling. I never howl, but I have to make sure I’m heard. And not just by Jonathan. The bathroom window is open, so everyone in the building is hearing me howl.
It doesn’t take too long before Jonathan lets me out. I make like the ever-so-grateful doggie and lick him and wag my tail. I even go over to Roger where he is sitting getting dressed. I go right up to him and put my face in his crotch, to find out if he got what he wanted. Nope! He freaks! He stands up and kicks me!
I yelp, of course, way more than I need to, and take off back to the bathroom with my tail between my legs. Roger is shouting at Jonathan to “get rid of that goddamn dog.” Which is what I’ve been hoping for. Because then Jonathan comes to his senses, and tells him, “No, you get out and never come back!”
Sometimes, you need to grab the leash and stop your buddy from doing something stupid.