July 3, 2010; Hellzapoppin'

I was shrieking like a battered child all the way home, making sure that all the neighbours were watching and that even people in cars were stopping wondering what Skeeter had done to me! I wanted him to shrivel from shame but my shrieking had no apparent effect on him.

When we got into the apartment I was glad that Boo-Boo was out 'cause I lit into him. "I am going to rip your balls off when you sleep, you motherfucking snot-bag!"

"How many death threats have I gotten from you?" he said calmly as he wiped my paws, "And why do you think I sleep with my door shut."

"WHY! WHY WHY WHY! DID YOU DO THAT!"

"Because you had it coming, you little shit!"

Okay...flashback a little.

I'm in love. Simple. Head-over-heels. The whippet. Every time she's out on her balcony, she squeezes her gorgeous pointy nose under the railings and I jump up, grab the edge of the balcony with my claws and it's French-kiss heaven. Everyone in the neighbourhood knows and besides Ginger (who thinks my doll is a whore) everyone loves the sight of me and my lady making out.

Her name is Twiggy and that's what she looks like.

(Skeeter, who is a real bore about such things, explained there was a human Twiggy who was real big way back in the 60s. The human Twiggy was a model who became famous for what was then called the "waif" look but which is now called—by feminoids only, I'm sure—the "anorexia" look. Skeeter explained this all to me and I tried to stay awake and then he concluded that the dog must have been bought from an older breeder 'cause the young couplewho owned her weren't even born when Twiggy was hige. Anyhoo...)

So Twiggy and I are in love.

And, as a result, I am particularly territorial. I don't like dogs I don't know on my street to begin with and I especially don't like male dogs anywhere near where my Babe lives...sniffing around her balcony like it was her open twat. So here we were, walking along, coming home, when this big German Shepherd mix started snorting about. He was a friendly enough lummox, came over to me to say hello. But he was near Twig's balcony. So I snarled and bit his nose.

That's when it began.

Skeeter not only picked me up by the scruff of the neck (not my preferred mode of travel) but said to the Nazi-dog's owner, "Can you help me out here, I need to get rid of this behaviour." The owner, a lady who looked nice 'til she did what she did which made her a cunt, in my book, nodded.

Holding me firmly by the scruff, Skeeter then presented my open crotch to the Shepherd for him to sniff and lick! CAN YOU IMAGINE THE FUCKING HUMILIATION AND I COULD NOT DO A FUCKING THING ABOUT IT! The Shepherd, clearly queer as a sunflower in the Arctic, went to town and licked and snorted and burrowed up my arsehole like I was a Thanksgiving turkey!

That's when I started shrieking. That's when Skeet said "Thank you" to the lady and she went on her way agreeing, "That was a good thing to do"—the bitch!

Back in the house...

"I will never forgive you for what you did! Do you have any idea how upsetting that was!" I was almost in tears.

"Cesar Milan showed me that trick—"

"—well you and Cesar Milan can rot in hell—"

"—DID YOU LEARN ANYTHING?" he finally roared.

"I learned that I want you to die in a thousand hideous ways. I hope your intestines come shooting out of you so that I can gnaw on them like sausages, you fucker!"

"Niiiiiice," he said bitterly. There was a little silence as I huffed and puffed as he completed my paws. "I know you love Twiggy," he said, "but you cannot attack other dogs. Period. And big dogs...well, that's just dumb."

"You queers really don't understand, do you," I said. I was on a nasty roll and I didn't much care what I said to him. "In our world—the dog world...the straight dog world—we protect our women."

"Well, guess what, little pecker!" he said in a hiss that shrank my dick a little, "You are in my fucking world and like it or not you are going to follow the rules because you're little so I can pick you up and any time I want I can rip your fucking teeny-tiny head right off and eat it like an apple."

There was dead silence. We stared at each other.

Finally I said, "Good one."

"I thought you'd like that."

"But never again, with the dick exposed to another dog, okay?"

"Not if you don't deserve it."

"I know you like spreading your legs for strangers—"

"—shaddup."

When Boo came home from work there was a birthday feast for him. I stared up at Boo for a bit of it, but he was too busy gorging himself. Skeeter cut a piece of delicious French baguette and handed it to me under the table.

His balls are safe.

For now.