So I was downstairs in our Ft. Knox apartment otherwise known as "Neurotoxin
Heights - the choice slum for discriminating Army plebes everywhere" and I heard this THUD upstairs. Wow.
That was some thud.
As a parent, I can only explain that particular noise as one you hear right
before a long, drawn-out silence as air is sucked into toddler lungs that are facing the ceiling after said toddler has
landed on its back. THUD.
Shit, I thought to myself. My daughter probably fell off her bed and is getting
ready to let loose with a torrent of tears and "why, uhuhuhuh, didn't you, uuuuuhhhnnnnn, catch me?", but then she came out
of the kitchen with a bottle of water and looked upstairs too. Hmm. The plot thickens.
I ascended the steps to a faint noise of something rubbing on the floor in my room.
Fully interested now, I walked down the hall and opened the door, turned on the light, and found my 80 pound bulldog going
at it with our bedspread.
In case I haven't mentioned it before, GatorX humps blankets. I mean, humps
them. Violates them, girlyman. I don't know why either. Blanket fetish?
Well, he had apparently humped our bedspread into this huge pile on our bed
that must have spoken to him in that oh-so-seductively-fabric-softened way that only blankets can whisper, softly, sweetly,
100% cotton fiberfilled-ly. Egyptian......cotton......thy name is Temptress. Ahaaa.
Alright, I'm getting on here.
Then, he must have turned over to his back in his laundrylust and continued humping
while he made his way to the foot of the bed, where he finally Thudded to the polished wooden floor. Only, he didn't
stop there. When we came into the bedroom, he was still on his back holding onto the comforter on top of him with all
four legs, humping for all he was worth. He continued to hump all the way across the floor into our closet where he
eventually stopped for a lack of room.
Gator realized that the ride was over, so he unceremoniously rolled onto
his stomach and rose to a standing position over his cotton bitch, grinning from ear to ear. His tongue lolled out of
one side of his mouth and he looked at me as if to say, "She had me at hello." I stood there wondering if the lead in
our apartment had somehow stunted his mental capacity. I don't think he even cared he was caught.
GatorX loves to hump blankets. Loves to. He will run over to me if I
bring my Spongebob blankey into the livingroom and try to get part of his body on any corner that hangs over the edge of the
couch. If the blanket is being carried by someone, then, well Heaven forbid. He goes all out to get that blanket
on the ground, even if it's just a part.
But, here's the funny thing. He is more likely to do so if the blanket is being
moved or someone else is trying to use it. As I type this, he's lying on my daughter's Tweetie blankey intently engaged
in his other favorite pasttime, licking.
He's a real kisser.
So, what the heck? I mean, what's up with the blanket rape? The bedding
degredation? Why the gleam in the eye upon seeing a flowing piece of material or a bunched-up bedspread? I have
yet to figure it out. I've tried the "it's a moving item and he's a hog dog" approach, but it doesn't seem to hold any
water, because he really enjoys the bunched up blankets on our bed and is prone to such unnatural Sweet Spoony Blanket
Love at any time. So, why?
Could it be because he was neutered at four months and is a dominant dog who had
nothing else to hump during the first four years of his life? We didn't get Sadie until 2004. I did catch him
attempting to make sweet love to Eissa once this winter, but that must have been a serious err in judgement; because as you
can see, she is too good of a friend to forsake.
Dogs are weird.
