Doggie Style Blog
"It's a dog's life," I sometimes hear the humans in the office say when I settle into my basket to snuggle with my toys, sighing with the exertion of a long walk, the remembered pleasure of a thorough exploration of an unfamiliar dog's fragrant hindquarters undiminished by the comfort of my familiar bed.
"A dog's life," they say, and laugh, shaking their heads, as if rueful or jealous of the small rituals that comprise my day - a rousing walk, an afternoon nap, a handful of kibble, a soothing (and mildly autoerotic, it must be confessed) testicular tongue-bath. Well, who else's life would it be, other than my own?
I am Johnson. I am a sleek, red-haired, long-bodied dachshund. I am four years old, vigorous and cold-nosed, in the prime of my life.
Sometimes I am called Muffin by one of the ladies who works in the office. "Oh, who's my Muffin?" she will ask, pulling my ears into two Hunnish spikes. I wag my tail quite hard - Yes, I am your Muffin - to which she invariably responds with savory treats and much excited crooning and stroking of my pelt. Perhaps Muffin was a dog who was important to her once, or perhaps a long-lost, star-crossed lover. I answer to it because it delights her when I do, and because I enjoy her snacks and attention. I know who I am - Johnson, not Muffin - but who does it injure to wag, grin, and pant upon occasion, when my buffoonery causes such delight?
This, then, is the chronicle of my life. Not "a dog's life," as they say, but my life - the life of Johnson, a dog who oversees an office full of humans requiring regular guidance, who are sometimes far too loud and often quite silly. Despite their follies, I feel an affection for their scents born of familiarity, similar to the great pleasure I take in the piquant aroma of my bedding, soft with cast-off snarls of my own fine red hair.
Please enjoy my daily musings, and if you feel inspired to open a line of communication - particularly if you know a strong, stout, unfixed bitch of childbearing years prone to estrus - you may e-mail me at johnson@xtoysusa.com.
In the spirit of a season in which we count our blessings and then greedily ask a red-suited, laughing fat man for more, I wish you the very best of the holiday season, my friends! (In closing, let me remind you that daily walks, afternoon naps, and autofellatio are three very pleasant ways to alleviate Yuletide stress.)
Love, Johnson
Heartbreak!
My obsidian beauty, how could you? I may be small, red-haired, long-bodied - Nature's own sausage-shaped clown - but, my angel, was there really any need to demonstrate my inferiority to your own goddess-like proportions by wrestling me to the ground, rolling me over onto my back, and taking your amusement at my impotent, paddling paws? Growling, you held me in my submissive pose for all to see. "Look! They're playing!" I heard, just barely audible over the rush of shame in my ears. Oh mercy, my dark lady! Mercy, goddess! I will have you, my queen. Your wickedness only makes my desire more
My new sin
Dear Readers, a thousand pardons for my long absence! I have been woefully derelict in my posting duties, and I shan't offer any tiresome excuses. The winter holiday season has finally drawn to its dyspeptic conclusion, and St. Valentine's Day approaches. Would it be so unlikely if I admitted to having felt the sting of Cupid's arrow myself? You may be interested in knowing a few details about the subject of my rapturous torment, my sin, my soul - she is a long-legged black lab bitch, with a hard high ass that smells of curry. Oh, I am slain over and
Pleasant Walk
Today I was taken for a pleasant mid-day walk. En route, I met a Boston Terrier who turned out to be quite a friendly chap, out for a brief promenade with his human keeper, as I was with mine. I could have sniffed his hindquarters all day but was rudely pulled away by my keeper, who was eager to get back to the fortress she calls The Office. Alas, dear Boston, I barely knew ye! The chewed pictures were found in my bed today. I expected a great deal of gratitude and a tasty reward or two, but strangely, I
Odd Pictures
The other day I found some very odd pictures: a human male and a human female had shed their outer fur and were mating face-to-face, instead of normally, from behind! The human female's face was covered very thickly in many layers of paint, and both her skin and that of the human male had been stained a strange orange color, as if they were both sick. Both were as hairless as rats below their eyebrows - even their private parts were raw and uncovered, as pink and slimy as mashed-together worms in that unnatural frontal position. I laughed and
