Do you remember Love Story with Ryan O'Neil and Ali MacGraw? Well, this is a love story of sorts, this is Dog Story. No, Lassie, Rin Tin Tin, and Old Yella are not the dogs in the story, but it is a dog story, just the same. Think of this dog story as you would remember Dino on the Flintstones or Astro on the Jetsons. (Boy, I'm showing my age.)
Where has all the love in the world gone? I'll tell you where it has gone. It has gone to the dogs and to the cats. Why? Because pets are non-judgmental and they love you unconditionally, that is, taking a giant leap, of course, attributing human characteristics to animals by believing that they can love. Yet, for the purposes of this story, that is, for me to entitle it Dog Story, it is about dogs and not about cats and, as I am firm in the belief that pets can love their owners, or so I like to believe, it is about dogs loving us as much as we love them. Okay, to the little bald guy drooling, there is no sex with animals in this story, so go to another category if you are looking for that.
Now, for those who want to read about cats, there are plenty of pussy stories on Literotica from which to choose (lol). Yet, even though I have a cat, (actually, it is my girlfriend's cat) I am a dog guy and will always be a dog guy. I love dogs and am not ashamed to write that I love dogs.
"Dogs! I love you, all of you, whether you are a Great Dane or a Chiwowa." There, I feel better now getting that off my chest. Ah, shit, I just stepped in, yep, you guessed it, dog shit. Oh, well, it is a small price to pay. "Honey, can you clean off my shoe, again? I stepped in dog shit, again."
See? Loving a dog is never having to say you are sorry even when you step in dog doo doo. I'm sorry for writing that, but based on the novel Love Story by Erich Segal and the subsequent movie Love Story, I could not resist. Of course, Al Gore and his wife Tipper should apologize for claiming that Love Story was written about their torrid or, more than likely, tepid love affair. Hmm...if it had been about Al and Tipper Gore, wouldn't Tipper have succumbed to cancer 40 years ago?
Anyway, I digress, after the woman or man who acts like they are so interested in you but who does not want to have a long-term serious relationship, after the girlfriend or boyfriend leaves you for another guy or gal because he looks like Justin Timberlake, she like Halle Berry, or has as much money as Donald Trump or Oprah or both, and your ex-wife or ex-husband takes everything in the divorce settlement, Rover or Bella or Otto or whatever is your dog's name is still there anxiously waiting for you to return home, that is, if she or he did not get custody of the dog in the divorce settlement. Damn, was all of the above one sentence? Try saying that fast three times.
Sure, Literotica is about writing erotic stories, but you cannot write an erotic story unless you are in the right mind frame and a pet, in my case, a dog always makes me smile. I mean, if you cannot love a dog, man's or woman's best friend, actually, there was that bookie who loaned me $5,000 and never asked for it back, now that's a best friend. Anyway, if you cannot commit to a dog, then you will never commit to a woman or if you are a woman to a man or if you are gay or lesbian to whomever. Hey, whatever floats your boat is doggone okay with me.
My first dog was a black, Scottish Terrier, appropriately named, Blackie. We did not have him all that long. He barked at, chased after, and bit the vacuum, and since my mother never wanted a dog and loved her new Electrolux, he was history within a few months. Yet, after she realized how much I loved dogs and wanted a dog, we adopted Hurricane, a Miniature Manchester Terrier. Hurricane was aptly named because he was heading east from Kansas to Boston and had a brother Tornado and a sister Cyclone. This 8 pound wonder had the heart of a lion and once attacked a German Shepherd by jumping on its back and biting at its fur covered neck.
I remember the German Shepherd giving me a look that I read, "Can you get this little dog off my back? He's bothering me."
We had Hurricane for 13 years until he died of natural causes. That was when I got Buster. Buster was a mixed breed, Poodle and Beagle, a Poogle, from the Animal Rescue League in Boston. Although he was the runt of the litter, he was the leader of his pack. He was mostly black except for white paws, white on the tip of his tail, white around his neck, and a bit of white on his head. He looked a bit like a small Border Collie. He was smart. We used to play hide and seek. I never had a chance. He always found me.
I had Buster for 13 years, too, until he was ready to go and I took him to the vet for his final shot. It is such a sad day when you must say good-bye to your companion for the last time. I'm tearing up now, writing this. I loved that dog.
"I miss you, Buster."
After Buster, I decided that a mutt was a much better dog to own than a pedigree. So, I returned to the Animal Rescue League and adopted Brandy. Brandy, Dachshund and Shepherd, was a funny looking dog that the rescue had difficulty placing. Imagine for a second, a dog that looks like a German Shepherd, ears, coloring, and tail, but has an elongated body with short little legs. My brother used to call him Low Rider. Yes, I wondered that too, which the father was, the Dachshund or the Shepherd.
After Buster died, I did not want another dog. Yet, I was miserable without a dog. Still, I went a few years without the responsibility of having to care for a dog and not missing the early morning and late evening walks in the cold, the rain, the sleet, and the snow. Then, my mother died and I was depressed.
Of course, I am not equating the death of my dog with the passing of my mother, but my dog and my mom, at the time, were the two that took up most of my thoughts during the day.
Brandy, because of her personality, devotion, and loyalty was like my mother reincarnated. She was a fabulous dog and she loved me. I only had to put my hand down and wherever that dog was, she would come to me and lay at my side. Never have I had a dog so docile, gentle, and obedient as was Brandy. She helped me through the loss of my mother. It is so comforting to have a dog to pat and to love when you are feeling sad. The addition of that dog to my family at that time was uplifting, to say the least.
They say the good die young and Brandy was definitely good because she died prematurely, at age 8. The vet told me because of the mix, Dachshund and Shepherd, that she had some developmental problems with her back and internal organs. For me, I will never have another dog as sweet as was Brandy.
Again, it was some months before I could bring myself to getting another dog. I was heart broken at the loss of Brandy. Then, one day, missing having a dog so much, I called the Animal Rescue League on of all days, a Sunday. I did not expect them to be open on a Sunday but, rescued animals need care 24/7 and they were open.
"Do you have any small dogs?"
Living in an apartment in Boston, even though I would love to have a Great Dane, a Doberman Pinscher or a German Shepherd, it would not be fair to the animal.
"We have a Miniature Pinscher."
Not really wanting another pain-in-the-ass pedigree dog, but liking the idea that the Min Pin resembled the Doberman in appearance, albeit, miniature in appearance, I drove over to see her. I knew, once I saw the dog, that I would take her home. I am such a sucker when I go into the animal rescue league and see all those dogs in cages. I feel bad for them and want to take them all home.
"Sir, you cannot take all of those dogs home with you. Sir, step away from the cage. Sir, don't make me whip you with this dog leash."
On the way there, certain that I would adopt her, I thought of different names to name the dog. I was running the gamut of cute female names through my mind when I thought of some of the names of the characters in my novels. That was when I thought of Roxanne, the main character in my first novel. From there, I decided to name her Roxy.
I took my two daughters with me and as soon as they let the dog out of the cage to run around, she ran over to them and never left their side. The dog was 2-years-old and I did not even consider that she already had a name until they told me the name of the dog and it was, yet, you guessed it, none other than, Roxy. Now, that was weird. Now, I know that I am not psychic so this must be fate.
At this point, since fate had intervened, this dog was, without doubt, coming home with us. We had Roxy for 13 years when, suddenly, it was her time to go, too. Roxy, although another pedigree and a miniature pedigree at that, was a good dog but had all the pain-in-the-ass idiosyncrasies for which miniature dogs are hated and/or beloved.
Yet, again, I was without a dog, only, this time, I was separated from my wife and moved to the other side of the state with my newly found girlfriend. Although, she has had dogs in her life, Golden Labs, which to me are more like stuffed animals than real dogs (okay, I can hear all the lab owners now who will surely send me e-mails telling me how great their dogs truly are), she has a cat and is, now, more of a cat person than she is a dog person. Still, cats are no dogs, you dog lovers know what I mean.
Okay, just allow me clarify my comment about Labs. Yes, they are real dogs and great dogs but, geez, they all look so much alike, don't they? That is one dog that needs just a wee bit altercation to their gene pool, don't you think? ...And, have you ever seen a mean Lab? They all have the same calm loving personality of a...stuffed animal. Perhaps, if someone put a little Pit Bull in there, we'd have a real dog. (I'm in trouble, now.) C'mon, you know what I mean. Labs are the only dogs that will walk beside you without wearing a leash. Try that with a Terrier and see how fast he runs away from you.
Now, back to the story, I was without a dog for about a year before I started yearning to make another commitment to dog ownership. Yet, wondering if I should buy another pedigree or adopt a mutt, all the different breeds with the qualities of each breed ran through my mind in a blur.
Fortunately, I found the best of both. Quite by accident, I stumbled over a relatively new breed, less than 100 years old, a Rat Terrier. Rat Terriers are considered a pedigree and are recognized by the United Kennel Club but not yet recognized by the American Kennel Club. They have the loving personality of a mutt without all the health issues of a dog not genetically altered. Albeit, being a terrier, Rat Terriers are a little energetic, okay, they really are a handful. Geez, Polo can jump six feet up from a stand still. I gotta get him in obstacle course competition. He is a natural.
Rat Terriers are bred from mating the standard sized Manchester Terrier, sometimes called the Black and Tan Terrier, with a Whippet. Early Rat Terriers used Manchester Terriers with Fox Terriers, which is why so many of them have black heads and white, stocky, muscular bodies with short legs. Yet, my Rat Terrier had the prerequisite Manchester Terrier with a Whippet but also had a bit of Italian Greyhound.
I found this dog on the Internet from a breeder in Vermont. Once I saw his photo, I fell in love with him. Appropriately, since he was part Italian Greyhound, the breeder had named him Carmine but I knew that if he was my dog, I'd name him Polo. He just looked like something that Ralph Lauren would create. Those people who are not familiar with Rat Terriers mistake him for a Jack Russell Terrier, but the differences are huge.
He has chocolate brown over white with tan markings and, are you ready for this, green eyes. Never have I seen a dog with green eyes. Most dogs, of course, have brown eyes. I have seen some dogs with blue eyes, Huskies and Blue Danes, and even a dog with one brown and one blue eye, but never have I seen a dog with green eyes.
He is a handsome animal, so handsome that every time I take Polo to the dog park, people remark on his striking lines and beautiful body. He is very streamlined looking with his barrel chest, tiny stomach, and long muscular legs. He looks like a miniature race horse. He has a narrow body like an Italian Greyhound with long delicate legs like a Manchester Terrier and he is fast like a Whippet. I love him.
And that...is my love story, er, Dog Story.