Our dog Mickey is such a joy to have around.  That’s what I tell people anyway.  In reality, he’s evil and he hates me.  How do I know this?  Because he torments me, and no one realizes it.  It’s worse than a bratty kid sticking his tongue out at you while in his Mommy’s oblivious arms.

I know what you’re thinking…he’ s a dog, you idiot.  Dogs run around, pant a lot, shed, chase cats, and drool.  They don’t concoct clandestine plans of constant revenge and games of mild torture.

Oh, but you are so very, very wrong.  THIS dog does just exactly that, and he’s damn good at it too.  Here’s one sample:

We have a small pillow for him set up in front of the TV.  When he’s not constantly berating us to throw him his slimy, little toy for the umpteen-billionth time, he lays on the pillow.  But he doesn’t just lay down.  Instead he proceeds to immediately partake of that time-honored male doggie pastime that is the source of much jealousy in their brethren’s human world – he licks his balls.

Now, I realize that my own inherent jealousy may be clouding my judgment here a bit.  It certainly looks that way on paper at least.  Dog licks balls…I yell at dog…therefore I yell because if *I* can’t do it, then *he* can’t do it.  Seems logical I suppose, but there’s more to it than that.

The issue is the WAY in which he, um…’grooms&r squo; himself.  You ever happen to be around a cow when she’s licking up her newborn’s cud?  It sounds like she’s slurping up jellied road kill.  And that’s EXACTLY what my dog sounds like.

HOW he manages to do this is beyond me, which leads exactly to my point…the “physics” of the sound he makes just aren’t there.  I mean, there’s no freakin CUD!  So how the hell does a dog make that damn sound?  I’ll tell you how…the little shit PRACTICED until he got it just right, knowing full well it can take the enjoyment out of whatever we’re trying to do at the moment (which often is trying to eat).

Why does he do this?  It’s simple…we stopped playing with him.  You are not allowed to stop playing with He Who Must Be Played With, for as soon as we do, he resorts to the commencement of The Licking of the Gonads.  It’s a cunning ploy to annoy the piss out of us, and force us into more toy-tossing.

Naturally I yell at him to stop whenever he does this.  At which point he looks directly at me, and then starts licking his paws.  The look says it all…”Listen, just because YOU can’t pleasure yourself this way doesn’t give you the right to deny ME of it.  But since you’re yelling, I’ll just push your buttons a little more and lick my paws instead.”

So I yell again, and what do you suppose the bastard does next?  He starts to lick his pillow.  It’s like “Hel-looooo???  ; You’re 9 years old!!!  The teen years are over, so CUT THE REBELLIOUS CRAP!!!!”

I yell once more…he looks my way with dagger-eyes…grunts a doggie “Harumph”, and then finally lays down.

You’d think that would be the end of it, but if you start counting you will see a new pattern emerge.  In a little while he will dream up some excuse to bark at something, which 99.9% of the time is actually nothing.  But doing so gives him the excuse to get up and rush to my wife’s feet, ostensibly to protect her from whatever he barked at.

Thanks Mickey, but you just barked at a dust ball…I may be going out on a limb here but I’d say that we’re all pretty safe from harm at the moment.

Now that he managed a coy excuse to get his ass off his pillow, this frees him up to begin his usual attention-sucking routine in which he moves back and forth between me and my wife, getting as much attention as our arms can endure.  If we stop for just an instant he immediately nudges our arm (with a cold wet nose of course) as a gentle reminder that his needs are not being fully met.  Truth be told I think a nuclear-powered auto-petting machine that ran 24 x 7 would still not fill his “needs”.

Once he realizes that Attention Time is fading, then he moves onto Slobbery Plush Toy time.

Do you see where this is going?  This story started out mentioning toys.  And guess what?  That brings us back to the beginning of the cycle.

Dog lays down.
Dog commences cud-licking.
Dad yells at dog.
Dog licks paws.
Dad yells at dog.
Dog licks pillow.
Dad yells at dog.
Dog flips off Dad, grunts “F-you”, and lays down.
Dog barks at leaf that fell from tree in neighbors yard two houses over, thinks there’s some risk, gets up and goes to Mom.

And it goes on…and on…and on…

The thing is, I KNOW what he’s up to, and I know the he knows that *I* know, and I know he does it knowing that it torments me.

Man’s best friend my ass.