Dogs are nice but I never thought I’d want to own one.
Pooches can be playful and loving and protective.
But they shed and they shit, usually at the most inappropriate moment. For instance, if you live (like I do) in a major city, your pet will do its daily squat just as a bus full of camera-toting foreign tourists cruises by.
Within a week, images of you pooper-scooping the aromatic droppings will be a highlight of hilarity on YouTube France.
(The French, especially Parisians, regard cleaning up after their dogs as a complete waste of time. Instead, they rely on the soles of unwary pedestrians’ shoes to rid their streets of pet poop.)
The truth is, I don’t dislike dogs, My quarrel is with some dog owners.
Particularly owners who coo to their canines in baby talk (“Does iddy bitty baby want wee-wee now?”) or parade them in restaurants.
I was dining at a so-so roadside restaurant recently when the pup at the next table wandered over and (showing promise as a food critic) brazenly peed on the leg of My friend’s chair.
The cretins who owned the creature thought the incident was funny.
The bad news (according to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control) is that dog attacks cause 4.5 million injuries annually, 800,000 of which require medical attention.
The good news is that dogs almost always bite their owners.
So why am I now the proud owner of a mischievous mongrel?
It's My subby-hubby bob’s fault.
For months he’d been whining that he wanted a dog. A shaggy, shambling sheep dog, no less.
The mention of it filled My head with visions of matted hair strewn over My pristine carpets, clinging to My clothes, couches and armchairs.
Tired of bob’s pestering, I decided to create a new crossbreed: a cur whose mixed ancestry combined the most desirable traits of My subby-hubby robert and his alter ego sissy-maid roberta.
Purely for My amusement, I would transform My husband into a human mutt.
bob was hairless and properly paper-trained.
he already had a dog collar.
I went to a local pet shop and purchased a leash, plus two dog dishes, one for his food, the other for water.
Now whenever I feel the urge My faithful Fido passes the day naked on all fours, collared and leashed.
I’ve taught him to fetch and to beg.
I mount him and ride him like a miniature pony.
At meal times, persuaded by My riding crop, My pet human animal dines from his doggy dish.
Occasionally doggy-bob is disobedient, baring his teeth and snarling in defiance. When that happens I straddle him and punish his ass with My substitute for a rolled up newspaper: a wicked cat-o’-nine-tails.
A couple of days ago I warned bob that if he continues to disobey I’m going to buy him an electric-shock dog collar.
And if that doesn’t work?
I’ve read that neutering a dog can make it more submissive.
