It’s inevitable. They could be outside chasing squirrels. They could be in the living room eating prized treats. They could be sleeping like the dead on the plush leather couch.
But try to get some play from The Honey, and the Sex Patrol is sure to interfere.
Meet Chief Testicles (aka “Westley”), numero uno in the Sex Patrol’s chain of command. Chief Testicles is no desk jockey – despite being head honcho, he’s usually first on the scene, and always ready to write a citation. Testicles has a very straightforward belief upon which the Sex Patrol’s Code of Conduct is based: “If I can’t do it, you can’t do it!” (Even if he’s not quite sure what “it” is yet…)
As far as Chief Testicles is concerned, being intact comes with a serious list of responsibilities. Between marking the couch, marking the bed, wrestling around on the floor in an attempt to get his diapee off, nipping at Angie’s ankles, sniffing at Angie’s “you know,” generally harassing and haranguing Ollie, and standing on the porch smelling the air for the slightest whiff of a bitch in heat within a 20 mile radius of the backyard, his days are full to the brim. Hard enough to find time to eat, sleep, and groom! So he is genuinely offended that I would add to his busy schedule by daring to … you know… do … something. Like I said, he’s still a bit fuzzy on exactly what that “something” entails.
Directly below Chief Testicles in the chain of command is Captain Ollie. Admittedly, Ollie’s not completely comfortable with the order of things – in every other way, in our home and pack, Westley (Chief Testicles) is subordinate to Ollie. But even Ollie has to admit that he just doesn’t have what it takes to be the Chief on this one… And when I say “what it takes,” I mean equipment – stuff – junk – testicles! There’s also the fact that Ollie’s got a real soft spot for The Honey, so while he can’t completely forgo his duties on Sex Patrol, he does sometimes choose to turn a blind eye… at least long enough for us to wrap up our elicit acts and hide the evidence before busting in on the scene… Still, Ollie has earned his Captain stripes. He may not like breaking up an ongoing disturbance, but he does what he must to try to prevent one from occurring. Snuggling on the couch? Okay, but only if Captain Ollie is securely wedged between us. He says he’s doing it for our own good, and because Chief Testicles ordered him to, but I’ve got a funny feeling he just likes cuddling with The Honey and me.
No police precinct is complete without its fair share of foot soldiers. In our small municipality of 2 humans and 3 dogs, our “fair share” is one: Officer Angie. Like many officers pounding the pavement, Angie would rather stay in her comfy crate with a bully stick (akin to a patrol car and a doughnut) than respond to a call. But when Chief Testicles says to report, she’s there, bright-eyed and bushy-nubbed (she’s a Doberman – she has a nub, not a tail). Chief Testicles was hoping that Angie’s sheer mass and sleek physique would act as a visual deterrent, intimidating us into compliance. But it’s really hard to be intimidated by a smiling, clacking, play-bowing, SpazTastic Doberman!
Crating isn’t an option, unless we want the soundtrack of our romantic evening to be one of mewling, crying, barking, and whining. They know what we’re doing, and they know it’s their job to stop it!
We’ve tried closing the doors, but the Chief and the Captain act as battering rams and try with all their might to break down the door. Talk about a distraction… Ignore this initial warning, and the dogs will initiate a full-scale investigation. Chief Testicles keeps an eye on the door to prohibit escape while Captain Ollie rummages through the trash. You know, for clues. Officer Angie says she’s going to search the perimeter, and then she takes herself back to her crate and parks it with a toy or bully stick (don’t tell the Chief!).
Open the door, and they all rush the “Scene of the Cwime,” as Westley says. They have very high-tech equipment (eyes, ears, and noses) with which they sweep the scene and take notes (mental notes, anyway – damn the lack of opposable thumbs!). Generally, they find the evidence they need to justify Chief Testicles issuing us a citation, and warning us to pay our fine – or else!!
The good news: the fine usually consists of some liver treats, and maybe a homemade bully stick.
The bad news: this really puts a crimp on our style.
Still, it’s a testament to The Honey that he sticks around through this invasive madness, and generally responds to my frustrated eye rolls with a laugh. In his best Westley voice, he says, “Sex Patwol stwikes again!” And the evening ends like the best of nights: all of us Wild Things (2-legged and 4-legged alike) sleeping in a real pile, snuggled together, warm and content. And smiling.
Can toddlers really be any worse?