| Vixie, looking well-behaved. |
My girlfriend and I are rarely alone on the Couch.
If we are on the couch at my apartment, Sadie accompanies us, sitting or standing in whichever spot blocks our view of the television the most.
While we are at Jess's apartment, her dog, Vixie, does the same thing, only adding in the additional trick of laying on her back and moaning for belly-rubs. Both dogs love to lick my face as much as possible -- a form of kissing that always seems cute on the surface, but is, in fact, completely disgusting. Especially when you remember some of the things that they pick up with their mouths while on walks.
As such, I usually allow them one good lick before I push them away.
They try their luck a few more times, but are met only with my impenetrable stiff-arm, as I attempt to focus on more important things, like trying to catch all the subtle gems that I missed the first time I watched Lost.
Off the dogs go to their corner of the couch, where they rest their chins on the cushion and stare up at us.
| "Woe is me." |
| Woe is Sadie, too. |
Looking at them, you would think that they are depressed from being pushed away. Sad, innocent little pups.
You'd be wrong.
You see, they have gotten the taste. All it took was one good lick of my delicious face for them to be hooked.
For a dog, a lick of a Human Face might as well be crack.
But worse than cocaine, a human face has the ability to kiss you back. Moreover, that delicious human face represents something much more than just its sugary facial pores and salty sweat glands. The face is attached to a person, without whom the dog is unable to eat, shit, or stay warm during the winter.
So there they sit at the edge of the couch, not wallowing in their own misery, but methodically plotting their next attack, pinpointing the exact spot on the face they wish to target and calculating the angle of trajectory by which their tongues will strike. They know that they will only be able to get one good lick, so they want to make sure it hits home.
Like a well-trained sniper or a stealthy ninja, they wait until the perfect moment (when Locke opens the hatch for the first time, for example) and then they strike -- a perfectly placed tongue directly into the eardrum*.
*More often than not, it is the eardrum. When it comes to the eardrum, they are sharpshooters. It's uncanny.
At this point I'll usually let out a yelp and toss the guilty dog back to the other end of the couch, using my finger to try to dry out my ear but failing, failing, never succeeding. It's not a physical moistness in the ear so much as an emotional one.
The dog rests her chin on a pillow this time and seems sadder than ever, the addiction becoming even more real now that wax is involved.
* * *
Yesterday, on Jess's couch, I found myself especially distracted.
I know what you're thinking: What could possibly be more distracting than an episode of Lost?
Well, Jess and I were making out.
Vixie, the curious little bugger that she is, began investigating to find out what, exactly, I was doing to her mother.
Upon seeing that kisses were being had, Vixie decided to test her luck and join the party with an attempt at a three-way kiss.
I wish I could tell you that I saw it coming a mile away and was able to thwart her plans with my patented stiff-arm.
I wish I could tell you that, I really do.
But I'm an honest guy. And as such, it saddens me to admit that Vixie was finally successful in her countless attempts to make out with me.
You see, the moment that Jess stopped kissing me was the exact moment that Vixie covertly snuck her head in, and in a seamless transition of tongues, I made out with my girlfriend's dog.
It only lasted one, maybe two seconds at most. But converted to dog-years, it was something like twenty seconds*.
*The most glorious twenty seconds of Vixie's life.
"I reciprocated!" I yelled. "Oh God, I reciprocated!"
It hadn't lasted very long, but it was long enough to be jarring, and unquestionably emotionally scarring.
"Pffft, pffft," I spat, trying to clear what had just happened out of my mouth.
I gave up and joined Jess in laughing. And while Vixie jumped around in joy, Jess and I laughed and laughed until we cried. Though, I am sure that one or two of my tears did not come from the mirth-duct.
Finally, I stopped laughing to address my girlfriend in a serious manner.
"This one is going to the grave, Jess."
"Okay, baby," she said, cynically.
"Seriously," I said, as matter-of-factly as possible. "Nobody can ever find out."
-Youngman Brown
| "Wanna go another round, big boy?" |
This post first appeared on Good Youngman Brown – The Best Place On The Inte, please read the originial post: here
