Doggy Style


     If you’ve been following my blog, you are well aware of the furry little fiend in our house who likes to chew on just about everything in site, including body parts. We’ve spent a crap ton of money buying a bazillion different dog toys for him to chomp on, but it seems he is very particular about which ones really appeal to him.  After many hours of nibbling and gnawing, his top choices have become a stuffed polar bear named Betty and a rawhide type thing called a Bully Stick. 

     When we first brought him home from the breeder, he was not a big fan of his crate.  He’d whine and cry and raise all kinds of hell trying to persuade us to let him out of there.  I decided he might like to have a little snuggle buddy, so I asked my daughter if we could give him one of her thousands of stuffed animals.  She hemmed and hawed over this decision, but she eventually determined that she was willing to part with her big, white polar bear.  And so began the love story between Betty the bear and Wrigley the demon dog.  

     It took a while for Wrigley to really warm up to Betty.  At first, she just kinda served as a pillow for him to rest his head.  We’d glance over at his crate and find him nestled in there with his head propped right across Betty’s.  Little by little, they progressed into full-on spooning.  Betty must be one hell of a spooner too, cause any time I’d take her out to clean the crate, she wreaked of dog.  The cuddle fest continued like this until one day when Wrigley decided to drag Betty out for some open air action.

     It was around this time that Wrigley decided to make Betty his bitch. He’d take her in his mouth and run crazy wild circles around the family room, stopping only to shake the tar out of her. He’d throw her on the ground and stand on top of the poor thing as if to say, “Yeah, who’s your daddy?”  And then one day last weekend, Wrigley figured out how to hump. My husband thought it was the funniest thing ever and even took pictures of the two little lovebirds. He even tried to recreate the mood so that Wrigley could show off his newfound skill to me.  (I was not as impressed.) And I gotta say that Betty took it all like a freaking trooper too with her crunchy hair and filthy stank.  Unfortunately, though, the dog trainer nipped that in the bud.  She said to correct that behavior immediately or else deal with him going to town on anything with a leg in the near-distant future.  I think that my husband was secretly disappointed that the canine peep show had to be shut down.

     Wrigley’s other favorite chew toy is something called a Bully Stick, which looks like a long,brownish-colored rawhide bone.  He loves chewing the crap out of this thing, so I ended up buying him another one.  We had these sticks lying around our floor for an entire week before I learned what they are actually made of.  Turns out they are dried bull’s penises!  I kid you not!  I may have thrown up a little in my mouth when I learned that I had been stepping over cow peckers all week.  So now, it has become a big joke around here.  The kids will tell Wrigley, “Here, chew on your peeper, Wrigley.”  And when he starts to bite us, my husband and I will tell him, “Go find your dick, Wrigley.”

     So, it seems that Wrigley is in his experimental phase.  On the one hand, he likes to get down and dirty with Betty, and on the other, he likes to nosh away on cattle dongs.  I feel like we have a PG-13 puppy in our midst, and we need to start shielding our innocent little audience member’s eyes.  Otherwise, we may have to explain the old birds and the bees much earlier than we thought.