There was a knock at the door. Liam opened it to reveal Rowena standing on the step looking both excited and nervous.
“Come in” he invited her warmly.
He showed her to a room where he told her to get naked. Then he showed her a narrow pink leather collar.
“This is your puppy collar” he explained, “once you’re wearing it I expect nothing but puppy behaviour”.
“Yes, Sir” Rowena agreed quietly. They were to be her last words for a while.
Liam told her to get down on all fours and when she had done so he fastened the collar around her throat.
“Your puppy name is ‘Lady'” he instructed her. Rowena nodded to show she understood. Continue reading “Playing Puppies”
My boy and I went to another play party. With a little more confidence than the first time, I had started with a few ideas of what I might want to do. Improvising, to what felt comfortable, it gave me an opportunity to bring out in public a few things I had wanted to do.
We’d settled in and my boy was at my feet in tiny purple pants and his pink lead. He needed a drink of water so I went in to the other room where our toy bag was and returned with a bottle of water. I also fetched the two new puppy bowls I’d bought. Shiny stainless steel with paw prints on. Mat’s face as I brought them into the room was a picture, even more so when I got out my prepared box of ‘dog biscuits’ to go in one of the bowls.
Still like a good puppy he settled down on all fours and took a drink of water, getting an adorably wet nose in the process. Then he chased a dog biscuit around the bowl with dogged determination until he caught it. Fed and watered he was a happy puppy.
Another puppy was brought over to join him with his own drinking bowl. Mat was made to share his biscuits. There was some playful growling but in the end he was a good puppy and prepared to share.
Then a real treat for us both, we were loaned a truly wonderful puppy mask and paws. Mat slipped further into role and I got to take him on a little walk around the room. I tickled his tummy and played with him, petting his new ears and nose too; totally lost in the fun of it. I think my puppy owner persona is quite a young girl really, maybe about twelve. Certainly I find it easy to simply get lost in the fun of it.
A little more play, some more water and biscuits and it was time for Mat to rejoin the human race but our evening was not yet over.
This particular puppy though, is no newborn bundle of fur. Still definitely a puppy, slightly gangly, sometimes awkward and unfailingly enthusiastic; but no longer a baby.
No longer carefree either. This puppy has been hurt in the past and there are scars to show for it. My puppy is loved and treated gently now. He responds with a desperate eagerness to please, rarely but randomly punctuated by a sudden cowering or an unexpected snap of anger. I feel a flare of indignation at each past hurt which left such a mark.
I must be patient with my puppy, persistent and kind. Rewarding good behaviour, quietly discouraging the bad. Giving love, always giving love.
This puppy is not just for Christmas. He is my rescue puppy to keep.
He had said that he didn’t do puppy play. I’d never consciously planned on having a puppy so I took that at face value and didn’t think any more about it.
Then we found ourselves at a slightly kinky social engagement, and I had cause to send him outside to stand in the cold. I was just thinking about letting him back in when I saw him, crouching outside the door, pawing at the glass to be let back in, much to my delight and that of those people I was talking to.
Still he was not a puppy.
That spark of playfulness has certainly fed itself into a couple of my fantasies, and I found myself writing about a girl and her pet. His reactions to those stories were always positive.
But he was still not a puppy.
So on a perfectly vanilla day, Mat and I were out for a walk when we passed a family out for a stroll. They had a puppy with them, on a pink rope lead, who was straining excitably, bounding about as only a puppy can.
“What an excitable puppy” I was laughing.
“I’d be excited too if I had a pink lead”, Mat had barely finished the sentence before our eyes met and he knew his fate was sealed.
When we returned home I ordered a pink rope lead, the kind which comes with a collar built in. I said nothing about this of course; waiting patiently for it to be delivered. When I opened it in front of him his face was a picture.
I slipped it over Mat’s head, and petted him enthusiastically. I took him for a walk in the garden, and he played with me. I had puppy treats (mini cheddar biscuits!) to feed him as I trained him to sit and stay.