The very instant I found out he owned dogs, I should have told him that I’m terrified of the creatures. For some reason I failed to mention that fact, perhaps because I’d like to believe that dog-owners will save me from their fierce pets without any extraordinary action on my part.

We’d met for coffee several days earlier. We’d hit it off well. Plans were made for a future, more private meeting. At the appointed time I arrived at his door.

That’s when the insane barking started. I was shown into his house while the dogs jumped on my legs and their pointy claws dug into my sandal-clad feet. The dogs backed me into a corner of the entryway, knocking over a vase in the process. This was the inopportune moment I chose to tell him of my hopeless pussy-ness where canines are concerned.

He tried to control the dogs then, I suppose you could say. He grabbed their collars and yelled at them to relax, relax dammit! Eventually I edged over to the couch and sat down. The dogs climbed up with me. One of them sat on my lap.

I was filled with terror but they interpreted it as as love. Not the first time something like that has happened.

We tried to talk on the couch for a while, but the dogs’ heads prevented us from being able to see each other. Finally the plan was hatched that we would adjourn to his bedroom and block the door with a spare piece of wood that he had lying about from a remodeling project. He “couldn’t” lock the dogs out completely or they’d complain. Crating them was out of the question.

I was 99% certain when we moved to his bedroom that there would be no hanky-panky that night; I was too terrified of having my naked ass nibbled upon by dogs. But being the perpetually horny chick that I am, I hoped at least to enjoy a small bit of highly-alert kissing.

Can you guess what happened almost immediately? After whining piteously outside the flimsy barrier he’d erected, the dogs broke through. They hurtled themselves onto the bed, insinuating their wiggly-furry bodies between us. I said, “If we don’t get rid of these dogs, we’re going to end up having the type of scene that I’m just not into.”

He made no move to remove the dogs. Instead, he reached around the dogs and attempted to rub my arm with a small vibrator. I sighed and began petting the dogs. I made a motion to table any further discussion of carnality that night and instead focus all our attention on placating the dogs. I posited that if the dogs got to know me better that night, they’d leave me in peace the next time I came back. My friend agreed.

So we played with the dogs on a bed strewn with sex-toys for a few moments before I made my premature exit. The relief I felt while backing away so overwhelmed me that I swore never to set foot into his house again or even drive down his street if it could be prevented.

I like me some doggie-style…but not like that.

——

This post first appeared on March 28th, 2007. I republish it now because the man in question recently began emailing and flirting with me again. I studiously ignored him until one night when I’d had enough. “We’ve met before,” I wrote. “Your dogs adored me but unfortunately, the feeling was not mutual.”

He wrote back, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Let’s try again, someplace where the dogs can’t disturb us.”

There aren’t enough letters in the word “no” to express the no-ness of my answer.