Howl (17 page)

Being a female of shy and reticent demeanor I have surprised myself fully with this open display of honesty, and ask that you kindly not remind me of such displays in the future, as they might scare me away, or make me less receptive to the types of licking and sniffing I enjoy upon first greeting in an amorous style of behavior.

Please understand that I am not a “loose woman” whatsoever but have spent my entire life saving up my passions for someone who smells exactly like you.

Anticipating your reply,
Candy

Ready for Adventure

Dear Denise,

What a brilliant bitch. I can’t tell you how proud I am.

Bonehead has been running around all day with his head in the clouds. He can’t sit still for a minute. He even bought me a new collar with these green, gemlike studs in it. They’re just colored glass, but I can’t wait for you to see how it looks on me. My master did himself one better. He’s had a haircut, a facial, a manicure, and even started using a moisturizer.

He smells as bad as Lysol air freshener, but he has a good heart and I hope your mistress appreciates all the time he’s been putting into his appearance. (Not that she’s any gift to nature herself, if you ask my opinion.)

I’m so excited I could piss all over the crummy linoleum. But I’m saving everything I have for you!

See you in the park, muchacha!

Love,
Randall

Satisfied Customer

Dear Doggylove.com,

My name is [name withheld] and I’m writing to thank you so much for your lovely dating service.

I guess I’ve always been cynical about these deals in the past, but that was before I met [name withheld] and found out how wonderful true love can be.

It seems like only weeks ago we were living in our separate domiciles, chewing our crunchy biscuits and moping, with nothing more exciting to look forward to than a scratch behind the ear from one of our sad, homely masters. Then we joined doggylove.com and our lives were transformed into a magical miracle of romance. Even our masters got in on the act, mated, engendered an offspring, and bought a house in the country, to which we will be transporting our doggy beds in a few short days. Not to mention have a litter of our own and raise them in open harmony with nature, much like in the concluding scenes of our favorite movie,
101 Dalmatians.

Sometimes I turn to [name withheld] in the night and say to him, “Honey, bite me on the rump. I must be dreaming.”

And [name withheld] always does exactly what I ask. Because, of course, he truly cares.

Yours sincerely,
Lost in Heaven

Editorial Reply

Dear Lost in Heaven,

Thanks so much for sharing your positive, life-affirming experiences with the rapidly expanding membership of doggylove.com, which has recently opened branches in Germany, the Netherlands, Saudi Arabia, and the Philippines. All over our exciting planet, canines are coming together to share their unique passions for giving and living. So go out there and get the love you need! Don’t settle for second best! Or you’ll find yourself lying alone someday in a smelly basement with nothing but a red rubber chew toy to keep you warm.

As our cofounder and senior board member Rosco the Big Mean Doggy likes to say:
Have faith in someone besides yourself, no matter what they tell you, no matter how they smell….

So until next week, happy sniffing to all you hunky dudes and bitches!

Miaow!

(Ooops, stupid keyboard. Let’s run by that again.)

Woof woof.

And love don’t come truer than that.

How to Raise and Train Your Mini-Berger-with-Cheese-Doodle

[Georgia Getz]

S
O YOU’RE READY
to commit to late-night whimpering and questionable bladder control. You’ve fenced your yard to prevent escapes and purchased bacon kibble! And while it’s admirable that Grandma is coming to live with you, this brief guide concerns your decision to share your home with a Mini-Berger-with-Cheese-Doodle.

This noble breed is a refined combination: the perpetual motion of the Miniature Pinscher, the linebacker protectiveness of the Leonberger, the trembling timidity of the Whippet, the insouciant stubborness of the Chinese Crested, and the telepathic sensitivity of the Poodle: put it all together and that spells enzyme disinfectant. You’ve acquired the best of both worlds plus three more!

History of the Breed

According to canine artifacts and Vedic Sanskrit, the elegant Mini-Berger-with-Cheese-Doodle dates back over 2,000 years to Eastern Assyria. Originally bred to husk corn and stoke the early morning kiln, this pride of dedicated dog fanciers is now a common centerpiece in three-disposable-income families. Majestic, cowering, intelligent, imbecilic: you’ll find yourself at a loss to find just the right laurel to describe your faithfully perfidious companion.

Is This the Right Dog for You?

Do you have the space for a couch potato with a springy gait who likes to chase his own tail stump? Do you have the wallet to deal with kneecap replacement surgery on spindly five-inch-high legs? Do you have the time to groom tufts of thick tawny hair while applying skin salve to large expanses of nude flesh?

This breed is not the right choice for everyone. Are you allergic to dog dander? Do you live in an apartment, work long hours, or live in a large house? Are you prepared for drool, compulsive barking, flatulence, epileptic fits, tooth decay, destructive chewing, ear infections, fear-biting, hot spots, submissive peeing, or premature bone disease? If so, you may want to consider other breeds such as a guinea pig or an iguana.

However, this breed is most certainly the right choice if you are looking for a rugged agile-footed pet who will diligently dig to Tanzania while towing a sled at breathtaking speed. And this partially hairless furball will love you to death. Literally. Just ask the nice folks over at the Schenectady Crime Lab.

Preparing Puppy’s Nursery

Just as you need a place to disappear after the pup’s new Citronella No-Barking Collar detonates during your cocktail party (giving an all-new meaning to martinis with a twist), so your new puppy needs an area to call his own. We suggest a dog crate. Your crate should be big enough for the dog to stand in and turn around—
but not a nanometer larger.
The confined space teaches bladder control because instinctively a pup hates to soil his bed. (Note: Soiling his bed is not the same as making doody in his bed, because the Chinese Crested in him won’t give that a second thought.) In addition the crate will make your pup feel as though he has his very own dog den. A dog den complete with metal bars and a chew-resistant lock. (Note: The Klaxon door alarm and klieg lights are optional.)

Next: Toys. Lots of toys. We love this year’s Manolo Blahnik Chew Pumps. You might also consider digestible sofa cushions, now available in a wide selection of colors to match every shedding opportunity! We’re crazy about this season’s popular Demodectic-Mange Yellow. You will also need a lead. (Note: This is not to be confused with a leash, which costs a lot less, is made of nylon, and will be of no use if your pup spots another furry critter. And trust us, everything looks like a furry critter through cataracts.)

Your Doodle’s First Months

Your immediate objective as a doggie parent is to housetrain your Mini-Berger-with-Cheese-Doodle. This isn’t rocket science. It’s behavioral science coupled with gastroenterological science, yes, but it
isn’t
rocket science. All you need is unflagging persistence and a rigorous schedule. And then a new schedule after your puppy tinkles all over the first one.

Most puppies need to relieve themselves fifteen minutes after eating; a sensible plan would include a trip to the “soiling spot” fifteen minutes after mealtime. Done! Of course, his Whippet side needs to defecate only five minutes after eating while the Leonberger side holds his poo for at least three hours. Therefore, you can safely assume that somewhere between five minutes and four hours your puppy will have the urge to relieve himself. Or not. Simple!

Puppy socialization should be another of your initial goals. A well-adjusted adult dog is a direct result of your commitment to expose your pup to the various situations and rogue elements he will encounter throughout his life. This is especially important for a Mini-Berger-with-Cheese-Doodle who has a propensity to fear the usual enemies including but not limited to strangers, same-sex canines, very young children, older children, convertibles, wood-burning fireplaces, veterinary assistants, sandwich baggies, and metal garbage cans.

Your Doodle’s Kit and Caboodle

Nothing prepares your puppy to be a good canine citizen like obedience drills. A puppy is a sponge that willingly soaks up everything you teach it—and that’s a wonderful coincidence because a Mini-Berger-with-Cheese-Doodle is a lot like a sponge that reeks of yesterday’s tuna salad. Your puppy should learn the basic commands “sit,” “stay,” and “come,” which, because of your dog’s uniquely disproportionate musculature, he can accomplish simultaneously. (Note: The command “heel” does not mean eating the trainer’s foot even if his Miniature Pinscher lineage dictates otherwise.)

It is important to maintain a definitive tone during your training sessions. Issue commands only once so that your dog never learns to turn a deaf ear. (That would be the deaf ear inherited from his Poodle forebears.) No matter the distraction, your dog should always focus directly on you. To that end, you might want to consider surgery to correct the inbred eyelid abnormality. What’s another thousand, considering what you’ve already spent and what you’re sure to incur over your pup’s next ten to fifteen years?

Your Cheeseball and You

It is important to recognize that, as a dog, your Mini-Berger-with-Cheese-Doodle is foremost a pack animal. Canines respect a social hierarchy and you should be positioned at the top. (Note: The time you spend hiding from your dog in a very tall tree does not count.) It is imperative that you establish authority with a firm and consistent manner. Simply practice the three P’s: Patience, Persistence, and Percocet.

In return, your Mini-Berger-with-Cheese-Doodle will reward you with what dog people call “unconditional love,” which means everything is grand until the pet store is out of liver cookies. Your pup will be your constant companion, the friend who is always there in time of need, especially since all five of the distinctly different breeds in your dog’s exotic makeup share one important character trait: Separation Anxiety.

Something Extremely Important

[Merrill Markoe]

T
ODAY OUR FRIEND
Paul came to the house in a near dissociative state of panic. Suddenly and without warning it appeared his marriage was unraveling.

He sat down on the big red couch in my living room, I offered him some vodka, and he cautiously began to detail his anguish.

“Up until yesterday if you had asked me if my marriage was a happy one, I would have said yes,” he said, choking back tears, his voice quivering with emotion, “and then last night, out of the blue, my wife comes in and tells me she wants a divorce.”

As Paul spoke, his voice full of shock and misery, our dog Puppyboy, a skinny brown and black Tijuana Shepherd, approached him. It appeared to be one of those moments of poignant intuitive empathy that people and animals sometimes share…right up until the moment I noticed that Puppyboy’s mouth was full of a large, black, completely deflated soccer ball. To Puppyboy, a ball is still a ball whether or not it is currently filled with air. And any occasion, even one that involves tears, is as good as any other to begin a game of fetch. So he placed the flat wet piece of rubber gently on Paul’s knee, where it balanced like a rock at Stonehenge, then sat down right in front of Paul to wait for the games to begin. Paul, however, was too upset to notice.

“She told me she wants to start seeing other men,” Paul said, in a voice riddled with pain. When he began to sob, it was heartrending. At least it was to me, though apparently not to Puppyboy, who saw it as a cue to apply a little additional first-inning pressure. So he moved the deflated piece of rubber from the edge of Paul’s knee to a new spot on Paul’s thigh, thus relocating it just a teensy bit closer to Paul’s hands, for his added convenience. And having rectified the problem, Puppyboy sat back down in front of Paul and resumed his ceaseless staring, confident that he was applying just the right amount of additional pressure to finally at long last kick off the start of the game. Unfortunately Paul had the bad manners to be completely preoccupied by his own tragedy.

“I have no idea what I am going to do,” he said, as Puppyboy moved in a little closer, and began staring a little harder, his eyes going intently from the flat ball balancing on Paul’s thigh…to Paul’s face…and then back again, as if to create a sort of psychic Google map for Paul out of thin air, in case he was having trouble figuring out where exactly that flat ball might be located.

“It’s been just emotionally devastating,” Paul continued. “Everything I’ve worked for has fallen apart. And what happens to me now? Am I going to lose everything? My house? My cars? My life savings?”

The more gruesome and painful Paul’s story became, the more convinced Puppyboy was that it was only seconds until start time. So he picked up the flat ball off Paul’s thigh and moved it to the most conveniently located spot of all, the very center of Paul’s lap. After which he sat back down in front of Paul and resumed staring, his face as bright with expectation as a pre-school-age child on Christmas morning. Secure in the knowledge that he had found the perfect leg spot at last, Puppyboy sat poised at the ready, confident that it was mere seconds until a frenzy of throwing activity would begin….

I sat and watched in awe as Puppyboy continued to pursue his inappropriate quest for the whole two hours that Paul was at our house. Despite the fact that Paul never acknowledged him at all.

Later that night, after Paul had gone home to pick up the pieces of his shattered existence, I began to wonder what Puppyboy was saying to himself during this piece of behavior, which, looking back, seemed to be akin to trying to start a game of catch with a man whose entire body was trapped in the basement of a collapsed building. So I asked him.

Puppyboy Speaks:

Hello, new seated person. I am Puppyboy and I can see that you are very upset for some reason. But I have something on my mind.

It is an idea so big that I can hardly hold my head up from the enormous weight of it. It is
more
than an idea. It is an
urgent message.
I am going out on a limb here and telling you that it is
the most important thing I have ever had to say.
And it is this:
I have placed a thing on you that you must throw.

If you look down now you will see it. It is that large flat thing that is balancing on your knee. It is stretchy and chewy and damp: everything a large flat thing should be. Please listen to me when I tell you
that this is an opportunity you cannot pass up.
The reason I feel I must tell you
that I have placed this large flat thing on the edge of your knee…
by the way, you
have noticed
that your knee has a big flat wet thing balancing on it, haven’t you? Or are you so busy sobbing and weeping and talking about
yourself
that you are having trouble seeing it?

Here’s a hint: I am staring at it right now. So if you can imagine a laser beam coming from my eyes and then follow it down to the spot on your leg where it is focused, it will lead you right to it….

There.

Now either you see it or you need to get your eyes tested.

The only other possible explanation for your puzzling lack of interest is that you are purposefully ignoring me. And why would you do that?
That
doesn’t make any sense.

Especially since you are really hurting yourself more than you are hurting me. Because let’s face it…you’re the one who is passing up a great opportunity. And by a great opportunity I am referring to the chance to have the kind of fun that everyone dreams of having.
I speak of the chance to throw a big flat stretchy wet thing.

Think about it for a second.

It is a thing that can be chewed but does not really need to be swallowed.

It is at once like dinner and nothing like dinner at all.

It is tough and meat-like and moist like a dead thing, but, here’s the kicker: It’s
all of the fun
of a dead thing and none of the attendant trouble. It stinks like a dead thing, and you can roll on it, or take it with you to bed like a dead thing.

It can be stretched and laid upon and pulled apart like a dead thing. But it
can also be flung repeatedly, without coming apart in a million pieces and losing all its guts like a dead thing…
If you can believe your good luck.

AND guess where it is right now?
It is now right in your lap.
I can’t believe you would be foolish enough to pass up this chance.

I don’t want to be preachy, but in life there are certain moments that may never come again. This, I believe, is one of those moments for you. Throw it now or live a life of regret.

I mean I can’t
stop you
if you’d rather just listen to yourself talk. Wife wife wife, she did this, she did that, really fascinating.

FOR CHRISSAKES LISTEN TO ME
YOU WHINY HENPECKED M****ER…JUST look into my eyes, and play along!

Pick up the big flat wet thing.

Pick up the big flat wet thing.

Pick up the big flat wet thing. PICK IT UP. PICK IT UP. PICK UP THE BIG FLAT WET THING?

CAN YOU HEAR ME OKAY? PICK UP THE BIG FLAT WET THING. Are you even listening? You know, maybe if you had LISTENED A LITTLE BETTER DURING YOUR MARRIAGE your wife wouldn’t want a divorce. DID you ever think of that? IT WOULDN’T SURPRISE ME IF YOU NEVER THREW THE THINGS THAT SHE BROUGHT YOU EITHER!

Okay. I admit that was hitting below the belt.

So that was not the only chance you will get. I am going to give you another chance right away as you will see, if you will but gaze legward.

I have
again
placed the flat wet thing on your thigh and now you will find it is even more conveniently located than it was before.

And listen, pal, if I were you, I wouldn’t pass an incredible opportunity like this up again.

[
Mongrels are God’s folk art.—Dan Liebert
]