CTT - Eww, Is that Doggie Don't?

I'll play Childhood Trauma Tuesdays today but don't expect it regularly. You don't need to hear my depressing tales of parental substance abuse, life in group/foster homes, abuse - let's bury that back in the vault and tell the fun stuff!


I was 12 or so (but small for my age), playing in my front yard with a neighborhood girl of about 6 that I'd babysit once in a while. Carrie's mother had her on the JonBenet track. Pageants, recitals, make-up. She'd practice behind her house in view of the trailer park and chicken houses. She was going somewhere alright.

A blond cocker spaniel from the neighborhood, Toby, had also joined us. The three of us were in the grass, horsing around. It was summer time. Toby was a friendly dog but it wasn't the first time I'd suspected him of heightened friskiness. I'd noticed as he was chasing Carrie and playing with her that the Red Rocket was docking for lift-off. Without making it obvious to Carrie, I got Toby away from her and he calmed down a bit (and not from belly rubs for certain). We were just sitting and Toby wandered off a bit to presumably fertilize the lawn.

Carrie's lying in the grass and I'm kneeling beside her, tickling her. Suddenly I am forcefully grasped at the hips by claws and Toby's tube of Revlon's In The Pink! comes sliding in the crevice between my upper thigh and my suzy (my mom's term then). He had his claws dug into my skin so hard I had trouble dislodging the horny little bastard and he kept trying to pump his doggy-perv hips at the same time. I was dangerously close (a half inch to the left) to losing my virginity to dog.

Whenever I meet a cocker spaniel, I think he's eyeing me up. COCKer Spaniel - the breed name itself is warning.

Go ahead Freud, philosophize on my Dog Girl moniker.