A Dog Of His Own -- The Week of Peek Part 6

This is the message I sent out back when Opie and I first started getting serious and we introduced all the animals...

 

This is Peek's "You Want Me To Do WHAT?"face

 

Well, I thought I should let everyone know that Opie and I finally crossed that ever important first hurdle this weekend—the meeting of the pets.

Yes, you read that right.

Pets.

Not parents.  Not friends.  Pets.

Because, let’s be honest, if his 50 pound Rottweiler mix can’t get along with my two bundles of crazy, there’s probably no sense pursuing this relationship any further....ok, kidding, but it would make things more difficult--because I think we all know I'm not getting rid of MY babies.

The problem with the meeting was, of course, the simple fact about that my pets are clearly confused about their place in the universe.

Peek-A-Boo, for example, is completely unaware of the fact that he’s a dog.  He’s pretty sure that he’s just a fat little man trapped in a fur suit.

And while he’s certainly open to having a dog of his own, he clearly thought it was important to establish the following guidelines:

1.      No dogs on the furniture.  Which meant that although Peek had his fat little body splayed out on the couch with reckless abandon, the instant Bub so much as put a single toenail on the edge of a cushion, Peek sprang to vicious life—barking and growling and charging until he scared Bub off.

 

2.      No feeding people food to dogs—no matter what.  Which meant that if someone inadvertently dropped a crumb on the floor—heck if someone looked like they were thinking about dropping something that might be food on the floor,  Peek charged across the room, knocked Bubba out of the way, and heroically gobbled it up himself—all in the interest of keeping the dogs of the house human food free.

 I like to think it was this same heroic spirit that made him jump in front of Bubba and bury his face in Bubba’s food dish.  It’s not that he’s a food aggressive little pig of a dog, he was diligently making sure that there was nothing in Bubba’s bowl that could be misconstrued as people food.

3.      No playing dominance games with the dogs.  According the Dog Whisperer,  a person (even one trapped in a fur suit), should never play dominance games like tug-of-war with his dog.  Apparently, this can teach your dog that it’s ok to challenge your authority.  And while Peek has obviously been watching the Dog Whisperer behind my back, Bubba just has obviously has not. Because that poor dog was desperate to prove his dominance in a tug of war battle with pretty much any toy in the house.

Which honestly, is either really mean or really dumb of Bub because he weighs SEVEN TIMES what Peek weighs. Plus Peek is old and doesn’t have a lot of teeth…a tug of war battle would have ended with him being launched across the room like a rocket dog. 

A fact not lost on Peek AT ALL.  Bubba would come over, tail wagging, toy rope or duck or what have you in his mouth, nudge Peek with it a few times and Peek would just sit there staring at him like he was out of his tiny doggy mind.  “I don’t play dominance games with MY DOG,” he would say.  

He would, occasionally, bark hysterically at Bubba and chase him across the room until he dropped the toy in question—so he could steal the toy and pretend like it had been his all along--and then hide with it behind the couch where Bubba couldn't reach him.  But he would NOT play tug of war.

 The Dog Whisperer said not to.

I'm not going to lie, it was a little embarrassing.

And the cat, of course, made it even worse.

               He, too, seems unaware of his true species.   He clearly thinks he’s a dog…but a dog of questionable moral character.

               See, the cat, unfortunately, is a liar.

               The thing is, when 2 dogs meet for the first time, there is a little struggle to see which one is dominant.  The submissive one frequently drops onto his back and shows his belly, demonstrating his submissive nature.  So, upon meeting Bubba, the cat took a few cheerful swipes at his head, then dropped to the floor and showed his belly.

               But, as I mentioned, the cat is a liar.

               He was not showing his belly as an act of submission but to lull Bubba into a false sense of security.  Because the second that Bubba would scamper over, thinking he was in charge, and put his nose down on Prince’s belly, Prince would smack Bubba in the face.

               Which would have been bad enough if Prince had done it once…but he did it about 16 times.  And Bubba fell for it EVERY SINGLE TIME.

Seriously, I think Opie’s just happy that I didn’t bring children to this relationship!

Can't you just tell this cat is plotting SOMETHING?

Happy Valentine's Gay

**This post originally appeared in 2013 as part of  a challenge to write about your "Most Memorable Valentine's Day"**

Since Opie and I have only been married a year and a half people are probably expecting me to write sort of a sappy, emotional tribute to the ultimate fabulosity of our lives together.  But sappy emotional tributes aren’t my style (unless, sadly, I’m writing about Peek-A-Boo, The Amazing Miracle Dog) and, besides, if I wrote that kind of public post about Opie, he’d break out in a rash…

So, instead, "The most memorable Valentine's Day I had was when I had the WORST VALENTINE’S DAY DATE EVER."

It was about 4 years ago; I had just gotten out of a bad relationship and I hadn’t reconnected with Opie yet.  I was a little down and crabbing about how it sucks to be alone on Valentine’s Day.

Then I learned what sucks worse: Having a so-called friend set you up on a date on Valentine’s Day with a gay guy.

I’m trying to give her the benefit of the doubt, like maybe she didn’t KNOW he was gay…but that would mean that she’d never spent more than five minutes in his presence…and I don’t know which bothers me more: that she set me up with a gay guy or that that she set me up with a complete stranger.

For the record, he didn’t actually come out and SAY that he was gay…but he was.

And for those of you who are horrified at my lack of political correctness, for my cruel pre-judgmental outing, please note that my friend Eric has already lectured me on my blatant breach of the liberal code.  He has reminded me that sexuality is a deeply personal issue and one of the few things in life that a person is allowed to self-identify. 

And then, after I told him the following story, he said “Yahhhhh, that guy’s gay.”

First of all, he was more feminine than I am—and I consider myself a fairly girly girl.  Second, he couldn’t keep his eyes off our waiter.   I’m not exactly Sherlock Holmes but when one man blatantly and continuously checks out another man’s perky behind, I suspect more than a passing interest. 

Which, in itself, isn’t definitive.  But then he turned every conversation into an oblique reference to the “desperately immoral lifestyle” he had previously been involved in.

Like I asked him how he knew my friend Sarah (who arranged this travesty of an evening) and he said he met her when he joined the same church she’s a member of.  “It saved me,” he said.  “I had immersed myself in a desperately immoral lifestyle.” And then he nodded meaningfully and took another peek at our waiter’s butt.

I decided not to pursue that and instead changed the subject and asked about hobbies.  At which point I learned that he has taken up running because he had to quit his gym after giving up his “desperately immoral lifestyle.”

And so on.  After about the tenth reference to this lifestyle, it was pretty obvious he wanted me to ask what it had been.

So, I sighed and asked “Drugs?”

“Worse!” He said.

“Murder?”  I suggested.  “Paid assassin?”

And then, like he was in some horrible over-stereotyped movie, he put his fingers in front of his mouth and tee-heed daintily.

It was one of the most bizarre things I’ve ever been forced to witness.

“Not that bad,” he giggled. “But close.”

Which I thought was incredibly sad—I mean, come on!  If you’re gay and your top ten list of evils in the world goes:

1.   Murder

2.  Homosexuality

I think you have some pretty deep-seated emotional issues. 

But I also think you shouldn’t be dating WOMEN.

Anyway, he looked at me eagerly, waiting for me to ask more.

And you know what?

I didn’t do it.

Instead I smiled and said “Good for you for getting out of it, whatever it was.” Then I told him I had to go.

Because Eric is right, sexuality IS a deeply personal issue and not one you should discuss on a first date.