Thursday, January 17, 2008

Suki kisses…

(What follows is a tale of bestiality so hideous that no dog should be forced to read it... unless you think it'll help...)

I don’t ordinarily go on about my dog – extricating poop from a dog’s butt is pretty much proof of ownership – but I figured today would be a good day. (And I’m short of things to write about… but, anyway…)

This morning, I awoke as I usually do – in the dark at stupid-o’clock. I went through my morning routine (the brushing, washing, dressing, generally making myself look presentable – “good” was given up years ago) and, as I picked out my tie, I noticed Suki, sleeping in her spot on the end of the bed, her head craned up towards me.

“What?” I asked, trying to trick her into speaking English.

It didn’t work. Her head craned, she cocked it to one side.

“What?” I asked again and, being the good person, I obeyed her psychic command and went to her.

She craned her head a little further and began to give me kisses. Now, listen, this is not a kissey dog. Oh, she gives her momma (that would be Vicky) loads of kisses – when Vicky gets home, when Vicky goes to bed… pretty much any time Vicky wants a puppy kiss, Suki is there for her. I’ve pretty much settled into the role of second banana in Suki’s life. We go for walks after I get home from work; sometimes, we jog. I play with her on the bed. We’re close, but she is not demonstrative.

And for those of you who think puppy kisses are icky – poo on you! (We’re not talking about french kisses here, folks!)

In fact, once I let Suki start giving me kisses, she moves up from my cheek to my nose to my left eye (which she found very tasty, indeed) and ended on my forehead. By that time, I was sufficiently licked, even if Suki wasn’t finished. As I backed away, though, I could see she wasn’t finished. She gave me “the look.” I’m very empathetic towards the emotional needs of animals. When Alacrity meows to be pet, I am there! Any child Vicky and I have will not want for luvin. So, I moved in and gave Suki a big hug. To which, she responded with her typical, “Huff.” That’s her way of saying, “I like it. Don’t move. Stay here. Call in.”

I figured Vicky might have a problem with that. “I gotta call in, Vic. Suki wants me to stay and pet her.” I’m thinking that wouldn’t go over well.

So, I backed away from the pooch and saw “the look” again.

I’m not usually a fan of pure-bred dogs. We are a world of mutts and pure breeds have little place. But I do love Suki. I’m just saying.

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