Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Don't mean to be fresh ...

I'm not breaking any exciting scientific news here when I say that dogs are rude. Everyone knows it. My dog is one of the cheekiest little assholes I've ever met. I love him to death, but damn he is cheeky. But its not like he's the only one. Dogs will roll in shit and then jump on your couch. Or they'll eat dead things and then throw it up on your carpet. And then they'll try to eat it again. And they won't even think twice about running into the neighbor's yard while you're in your sweatpants, slippers, and a long fur coat. Or, as I've most recently discovered, they'll shove their head in their crotch in public and absolutely no type of gentle coercion is gonna get them to move it. Rude.

First, I'll give you a recent example from my own dog. I say recent because we went through quite a long time of this dog acting like a complete and utter dickhead until we loved (and emotional dog therapy-ed) the dick out of him. For the most part. But way back when there was all that real rescue dog behavioral stuff we had to deal with, like humping and growling and biting and snapping and snapping at small children and humping small children and humping grandparents and crawling under things and not eating and temper tantrums and barking and attacking other puppies, and did I mention he bit the puppy kindergarten teacher on puppy kindergarten graduation night, and generally just being a dickhead.

But that was a long time ago. Now he's just cheeky. I've recently taken up trail running and on my shorter runs, I'll take Rooney. He's pretty good in the woods and usually keeps himself relatively close to me unless he's off on a scent. Even then, he almost always comes soon after I call. Recently, it's been really muddy in there though. I mean REALLY muddy. There are portions of the trails that are downright swamp and there's no real way to avoid them. Some of these puppies stretch on for 10, 15, 20 feet and take up the entire trail.

What I'll usually do is slow down and tip-toe my way around the inch- or two-wide edges where the mud and water is just a few inches deep, as opposed to the rest of the puddle that can be shin-high with muck. The kind that sucks your shoes in and makes explicit sounding sounds when you pull them out and dirty water a few inches even higher than that. So of course for those few seconds I always pretend I'm journeying through the Swamp of Sadness from the Neverending Story and I have to prevent myself and my trusty steed from being sucked in to our doom and did you know that I STILL can't watch this clip without crying? FIGHT AGAINST THE SADNESS, ARTEX!

The dog -- who is always a few paces in front or behind me -- always takes this exact moment to run up next to me and bump me into the center of the giant puddle. Because we're usually moving at a relatively good clip and I'm hopping on my toes, often from rock to rock, my balance can't really take a good jolt to the knees that he gives me and I inevitably end up in the middle of the swamp. Once safely on the other side, he turns around and wags his tail at me. Every. Single. Time. It doesn't matter if Rooney's 50 feet behind me and I think I'm safe; he'll come sprinting up next to me just in time to knock me in. It's like the dog takes great joy in watching me stumble into the filth. He does it on purpose. I can just feel it. Dick.

Anyway. I was taking a stroll through town with Rooney this past weekend when we came across an older man walking his golden retriever. The dog's name is Boo, which is ironic because this man is a bit of a neighborhood Boo Radley. He's an older guy and a little worse for the wear for it. He lives alone in an huge, old, somewhat decrepit house around the corner from us. He's very friendly, but he's clearly a little slow and I can see why he can come off as a little creepy to some people.

Whenever I see him walking, I usually stop and say hello and let him get some of the talking out that he seems to have been holding in all week. Every single time we stop to chat about the dogs, Boo shoves his head in my crotch and keeps it there. He doesn't move. It's like he's warming his nose in my lady parts. I'll try to deflect by petting his head with both hands and discreetly shoving him away or crossing my legs or turning my hips or putting Rooney in between my crotch and Boo. Look, Boo, a dog butt. Nothing works. The dog's and dog and he has a one track mind: My crotch.

And you can save all your jokes about my crotch smelling so good/bad/like dog food, Falko, or my choice of underwear/time of the month/showering habits because he's not even sniffing. He just forcefully shoves his nose in between my legs and stands there. Instead I invite you to make all the jokes you'd like about my chastity/lack there of/the dog's need to guard my virtue/lack there of.

The old man either doesn't notice or doesn't care and I can't figure out which. Every time I take a few steps back, Boo's owner takes a few steps forward so Boo doesn't pull on his leash. It's like an ongoing lady bits avoidance dance and Boo is just happy as a kid in a candy shop. Or a dog in a crotch. Finally, this past weekend I lightly pushed Boo's head away and said, "gettin' fresh, Boo," thinking that this might call his position to attention. The old man just stared blankly at me then continued on with whatever he was saying before.

What do you say to the man who continuously fails to notice or care that his dog's head is wedged between your legs? Excuse me, sir? Could you please not let your dog shove his nose up my vajay? Mmmm thanks. It's gotten to the point where I'll turn corners to avoid Boo and his owner if I happen to see them out walking because I'm just not particularly in the mood to be sexually assaulted at the moment. But I feel a little guilty about it because the old man probably doesn't get to shoot the shit with many people throughout the day and now I'm denying him that too?

I should just start walking the dog after happy hour because I'm much more amenable to groping after a couple drinks. Now that I think about it, this whole Boo thing reminds me of a guy I once dated. ZING.


Doug said...

It sounds like Boo owes you a dinner

Falko said...

I wasn't even going to read the rest of your post and skip right to making an obnoxious comment until I saw my name... touche.

Bridget said...

@Doug, I just want you to know how much I thoroughly enjoyed our meal.

Bridget said...

@Falko, do I know you or do I know you?


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