My Dog Has A Panty Fetish

My dog has a panty fetish. Little dude is a beagle who had his balls clipped a while back but doesn’t seem to care. Ok, that is kind of a crude way of putting it but it is true. The day of his surgery he looked at me with those soft puppy dog eyes and I couldn’t help but picture a sort of prison setting with him as the prisoner and myself as the warden. He is begging for clemency, hoping and praying that I won’t pull the switch on Old Sparky.

Can’t say that I blame him because I am rather fond of my own set and the idea of having them removed is quite unpleasant. On the other hand he is just a dog and he couldn’t have been aware of what was in store for him that day. Really, we did it for his own good and for my sanity. I couldn’t handle the idea of him knocking up all the bitches in the neighborhood. At the time he was what, three or four months old and even though dogs age faster than humans he was still too young to become a father.

Not to go down the road of TMI but I remember an incident from last century in which my girlfriend and I had a scare. I was all of 19 and less than pleased to discover that the mighty condom which was supposed to contain me broke. When you are actively trying to get your wife pregnant it is joyful to swing from the chandelier screaming that your boys can swim. It is all sorts of awesome to be silly and come up with more euphemisms for your super sperm. Really, that is how I pictured it. It watching Harry Potter playing Quidditch, “Go Get That Golden Snitch Harry!”

To be clear, I never once shouted that nor anything like that. But I might have suggested the boys could beat Mark Spitz in the 100 fly any day of the week. And now back to tales of the dog and his panty snatching ways.

I don’t know why he likes panties but nine times out of ten if he grabs a pair of underdrawers they don’t come from the menfolk. I sat him down the other day and had a long talk with him about that. I told him that I was tired of chasing him around the house and that I didn’t appreciate him occasionally gnawing upon objects that weren’t specifically his. I made a point of looking in his eyes and telling him that he didn’t want to make me count to three. I am pretty sure that I got through to him as he wagged his tale at me.