The Wrong Kind of Doggy Style

Dating advice for a guy whose girlfriend’s dog gets a little too close to the action, and Blane gets dogged by a reader.

Q: I’m dating this gal that has a small dog. The dog watches me bang her silly. When she howls, he howls. She won’t run him off, so he sits there and watches the whole sordid event. The little bastard even licks the wet spot after we are done. I’m not a pet person, and this creeps me out. Is this normal for people with pets? What can I do? —Doggone Sick of This

Not what you want to see while getting down and dirty. Photo credit: This Year's Love

A:  Hmm. When men talk about wanting more doggy style in the bedroom, I’m guessing this isn’t exactly what they have in mind.

Your letter reminds me of a horror story of a friend whose girlfriend had a cat that once pounced on his privates in a pre-romp attack. I think he still has some physical and emotional scars from the encounter. I mean, the slightest glimpse of the Hello Kitty logo is enough to make him cringe. So perhaps you should count your lucky testes that your gal has a pocket-sized pipsqueak instead of a mastiff or claw-happy cat.

I agree with you that Fifi getting a bedside seat to the action is a little bizarre, and the talented Angie Woods, a dog behavior expert with the Atlanta-based US Canine, agrees with me. But Woods points out that you’re not dealing with a pervy pup, just a curious one.

Says Woods: “I would not let said dog in said room while I was getting the action [me neither], but the dog is just responding to the sounds [not to mention, sights, smells and liquid leftovers on the sheets] of what’s going on. There’s nothing wrong with what the dog is doing.”

You see where this is headed: There is something, if not wrong, then correctable, about what the owner — your girlfriend — is doing, as it is the case almost universally when (wo)man’s best friend isn’t behaving like you want him/her to. Your girlfriend doesn’t see this as an issue because she is a pet person — and very well might be one of those who thinks nothing of sharing kisses or ice cream cones with the pup.

So if you haven’t approached her about the problem, then do it already. The solution might be as simple as shutting the damn bedroom door. Another option: Distraction. Stock up on rawhides, or one of those Kong thingamajigs — for you non-dog-owners, they’re the rubbery toys you can fill with dog treats or, as Woods suggests, peanut butter (um, please don’t go there, you especially pervy readers) or cream cheese.

And (this comes from me, not Woods): The only licking of any wet spots should be between you two, not Fido. So throw a friggin’ towel over the evidence before you let the little furball back in the room, already. (And, as I’ve been trying to drop a few pounds, thanks for helping me lose my appetite for a week with that image.)

Q: OK, please explain this to me, Blane: How do you expect to be able to give advice to people who are single now that you’re no longer in this category? I mean, I’ve followed your column for years, but I have to say it feels a little weird that you’re trying to play off that you’re now “one of them.” What gives? I don’t know if I trust you, or your advice, anymore. — Still Single and Cynical

A: Really sucks to hear that, I gotta say. But maybe the following will help change your mind. If not, well, thanks for reading up to this point.

First things first: I’m married, not dead (or worse, a Republican Teabagger). I don’t spend my evenings crocheting a collection of cell phone covers for the hubby; in fact, there’s little I cherish more than dissecting dates with my single friends (and I have plenty) over a case, er, bottle of wine. I still think singles are one of the most misrepresented categories of society, and I have nearly two decades of firsthand experience and all the assorted landmines, disappointments and dilemmas that come with singledom. A wedding ring doesn’t negate any of that.

Plus, I haven’t been trying to “play up” (or “play down”) anything about my new status as “one of them”— on the contrary, I think I’ve mentioned married life once in five months. The only other way you’d know I got hitched, other than my ring finger, is that bit of extra chub I mentioned I’m trying to lose.

Also consider this: I’ve been coupled up ever since I’ve been writing the column in the advice format. If you trusted me, and my advice, up to this point, why should the simple act of my walking down the aisle change your opinion?

But hey, I’ll use your letter as a reminder to all readers — happily single, formerly single, soon-to-be-single, whatever — that I always welcome your feedback. If you think I missed the boat on something, then make like the first letter writer needs to do, and speak the hell up. (Of course, praise is fine by me, too.) I might not be single any more, but I’ll always be a Bachelor at heart.

(And I can’t resist pointing out that your signoff is about as optimistic as Oscar the Grouch. So it’s also safe to say that sometimes people like you manage to find anything to be “cynical” about, whether they’re “still single” or not.)

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