Dangerspouse Rides Again

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Garage - Track

Jun. 16, 2004 - 5:00 a.m.



Here's what I took away from Corgipalooza-2:



That, my friends, is the passenger seat of the Mighty WRX with optional Corgihair Seat Cover.

No, that is not a factory option.

I joined a Yahoo Group dedicated to Welsh Corgi owners a year or so ago because, well, I just do cool things like that. We discuss pressing issues like; "How To Deworm Them" ('with a fondu fork' was the unanimous verdict), "How to Teach the 'STAY' Command" (strychnine), "How to Keep Them From Jumping on Guests" (strychnine), "How to Teach the Sit Command" (gently press the flanks whil...no wait: strychinine), and so on. I pretty much just lurk, because all my stories tend to skirt the line of Animal Abuse, rather than Endearing Anecdote.

Well this past Sunday a bunch of members in the NY/NJ/PA area decided to get together for Corgipalooza-2...and this time they invited me! (They, uh, forgot to invite me to the first one.) It seems that with Casey the Unstoppable Corgi in a full length cast, he posed less of a threat than before and they decided to risk it. I didn't care that it was a sympathy invite - there was gonna be free food!

Of course, the catch was that I had to bring my dog. This was a Corgipalooza after all, not an Ownerpalooza. In fact the whole raison d'etre for this particular shindig was that it was one of the little dwarf's birthdays, and "Stubby wants all her cyber-friends to attend". Well, I certainly didn't want to disappoint a 9 inch tall canine on her all-important 3rd birthday.

The problem was, previous short car trips to the vet caused him considerable pain because of the awkward stance he had to adopt in the seat. Corgipalooza was almost an hour away from Dangerhouse.

There was free food.

I tossed him in the passenger seat and turned the key.

It was actually even tougher on the little bugger than I thought it would be. In his attempts to get comfortable he began turning and twisting in the seat. This led to him several times getting his cast caught between the seat and the door, or the seat and the center console, or the seat and...well, just those two. But that was enough. Four or five times I risked having little old fogeys in Ford Taurus' plow into the back of me because I was slamming on the brakes and diving for the shoulder, all so I could free a wriggling Corgi who was beginning to panic when he couldn't free his arm RIGHT NOW.

I suppose I should have thought to cover my seat with a blanket or something, but who knew that Corgis shed their undercoat when upset? If only I'd remembered to pack my strychnine....

We finally got there, and because I wanted people to like me I had toted 8 pounds of chips along with us (4 - 2 lb. bags at BJ's Warehouse! Woo Hoo! Ok, they weren't name brand, but "Wize" looks an awful lot like "Wise" on the package if you just glance at it.) and several cannisters of dips. Maybe they'd be too full to notice my personality.

The group was very nice. EXCEEDINGLY nice actually, which always ends up spelling disaster for me. Fortunately we were outdoors, so the halitosis wasn't really a factor. With 15 or so dogs milling about our feet I could always blame it on the potency of their excretions, if it came to that. But other things, like my overall personality and appearance, would be tough to blame on a surfeit of dog shit. I was hoping that most of them were Italians so that the food would be a suitable distractant.

As it turned out, my own lack of breeding and decorum was hardly noticed. I was upstaged in that department - by my dog.

Yes Casey, who should have engendered nothing but "Awww!"s and "Poor Doggy!"s while staggering around on 3 legs after being brutally attacked and left for dead, instead managed to throw away his Sympathy Card faster than the US did after 9/11.

And it was all because I'm a bad roll model.

They say that insane men have the power of ten, but you can modify that to read "insane men and horny Corgis". From the moment his paws hit the ground, he was a non-stop Man on the Prowl. And his debauch of choice? Butts. Same as his old man.

I never should have let him sleep in our bedroom. The kid's a quick study.

He made a beeline for the first mirror image of himself, and after a cursory nose-to-nose it was time to really get acquainted. I bought my (new!!) camera along, and seriously, I have a 128 meg card FULL of Casey with his nose up Baily's butt... Calvin's butt ...Sophie's butt ....Yoshi's butt.... and so on. Every. Last. Picture. To their credit, each of these dogs was well trained and didn't take advantage of Casey's handicap in order to break another of his legs.

I thought that after an hour or two of this he would tire of inhaling nothing but methane and corn kernels, but no. A hundred and twenty minutes later he was still as enthusiastic as when we first touched down. More so, even. It seemed to be a tonic, an innervation. He was having the time of his life.

Unfortunately, the assembled owners were not quite so sanguine about my dog's enthusiastic appreciation of their Corgis' assholes. I kinda shrugged and smiled helplessly with a "dogs will be dogs, right?" expression on my face whenever one of them shot daggers at me. But I didn't actively intervene. After all, if Casey started behaving himself, the attention would shift back to me. And if they thought anal fixation was reprehensible....

I let Casey go to town.

Somewhere around the second hour though, Fate intervened in the person of a skinny, acne riddled inbred mountain kid with a badge and a Park Ranger truck. He spotted a bunch of our dogs lolling quietly in the shade, marched over, and told us in his just-hit-puberty rasp that ALL DOGS MUST BE ON LEASHES, EVEN WHEN HE'S NOT AROUND. His look dared, DARED, anyone to defy his authoriTAY. When he was convinced that we were all impressed with the size of the penis he was weilding, and understood the gravity of the transgression we were committing, he marched back to his truck and slowly rolled down the trail, looking over his shoulder the entire time to make sure we didn't break into a chorus of "La Marseillaise".

With the leases on, it was easier for the other owners to keep their dog's butts a safe distance from Casey's nose...and concentrate on ME. I began to panic.

Fortunately, at this point food was served. First up: the birthday cake! Stubby was the lucky 3 year old, and she KNEW the party was for her. Mom brought out the special doggie cake she'd made (I tried some - it was good! Who knew marrow, lard and sugar was such a tasty combo?) and Stubby danced around on her hind legs the entire time it was being cut. It actually was very cute. Each dog got a piece on a "Happy Birthday" plate, and we all sang. A few of the more enterprising dogs wolfed their slab down in one gulp, then went on marauding raids to see which slowpokes they could overpower for their slice too. Casey held his own, bless him, and I credit my influence for that also. Ever seen an Italian at table when there's barely enough food for all? Casey has, and it was a lesson well learned. He fought off all comers.

But when the last crumb was licked clean, the last present opened, and the owners finally queue'd up for their meal, Casey went nuts. Two hours of anal foreplay, a good repast heavy on the sugar, exiteable females...he wanted to get laid, and NOW. Never mind that she probably saw him as only half a dog, with his arm in a sling like that. Casey was determined to get some tail from Birthday Girl any way he could.

And being tied to a chair, with the little bitch 15 feet away, that meant mustering all his strength and dragging a 40 pound Adirondack recliner inch by inch across dirt and grass until he reached her. Which he almost did. What thwarted him was the last two feet of ground, which was very rocky. At that point the chair would not budge further. Stopped just inches from knock knock knocking on Heaven's door, Casey began to yelp in frustration. We all turned at the sound and gasped, and I sprinted over and hustled both dog and chair back in my right arm while balancing a plate with two burgers and macaroni salad in the other (um...Italian. Once it's on my plate, it doesn't leave my side.)

This time I slip-knotted his leash around a tree well away from the rest of the group before I returned to the table. The remainder of the meal was uneventful.

Afterwards we all gathered our pups for some more playtime and chit-chat. At first, Casey seemed more subdued and just lay at my feet. But it was just a ruse. No sooner had I started an animated conversation with some idiot who insisted that The Munsters were superior to The Addams Family, than a woman screamed behind me. I whirled and saw that Casey had quietly crept to *just* the end of his leash - slowly enough so as not to tug and gain my attention. And that was just the length needed to mount a rear action assault on Stubby the Birthday Girl - again! I yanked so hard I'm suprised I didn't decapitate Casey - and wouldn't have mourned if I did. It didn't faze him at all though, although it took several minutes before his eyes retreated fully back into their sockets after that. Every chance he got for the rest of the day, he tried to nail poor Stubby.

Don't get me wrong, I could see the attraction. If NewWifey(tm) had a tailless butt like Stubby's, I'd be late for work every morning. And Stubby's smelled better! But still, it was my duty as Casey's owner to see to it that his Grail Quest was unsuccessful. And for the most part I did an admirable job of keeping him thwarted. There were only a few more times that Stubby actually came within range, and each time I managed to get them seperated before anything sticky happened.

Finally around 4:30 I said my goodbyes. There were some relieved looks, not only from the owners but also from Stubby. It must be hell being that irresistable. But everyone put on a very nice face and thanked both of us for coming, and the host (the lady who's dog Casey kept trying to impregnate) even presented Casey with his very own Party Bag full of favors. The sack held several homemade peanut butter buscuits - which he devoured before we even got out of the parking lot - a tennis ball, a rope chew-toy, and...thank god how did she know...a roller thingy that picks up fur from clothes. It was pretty amazing the care, time and effort that went into this party, not to mention the favors. My parents really must have hated me.

I chucked Casey back into the passenger seat, fired up the Mighty WRX, and scooted out towards home. Two or three more stops to free Casey's leg and an hour later we'd made it. NewWifey(tm), who was still sick from last week's episode and didn't go with us, immediately wanted to see the pictures. So I plugged in the USB cable and started downloading page after page after page after page of our dog with the first two inches of his nose missing. Well, not missing. Just disappeared up another dog's butt.

"He takes after you." NewWifey(tm) commented needlessly.

He certainly does, but I'm afraid if we wanna get invited to Corgipalooza-3 next year I'm going to have to break both his back legs AND have him unload a few times into a RealDog doll on the trip over first. And maybe stay home and let NewWifey(tm) take him. Because you never know when the urge to sniff butts and hump Birthday Girls might overwhelm Daddy also. It's happened before....

See ya, kids. Gotta go depilate my car seat.


Thanks to onewetleg , who observed "Be Kind To Retards" week by sending me the code to re-size my photo. Not to mention several other who privately e-mailed me offering to do the same. You're all just fantastic, even if most of you did try to emasculate me with ridicule before you offered the actual help.

Oh, and hcatty ? Tell Becca I have a montage of her making faces as my wallpaper. Very nice, very nice....


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