……And Cold Bitches

In all of his thirteen years Fritz has had many loves, but only two of them were actually dogs. The first was a one-sided affair with my brother’s dog at a family get- together in Venice Beach, which we refer to with never failing hilarity as the “Labrador Incident”.   Fritz was one year old, and had made love to many an indifferent, unresponsive and stale stuffed bears, so when we walked onto the patio and he saw the big black backside of Molly ……how to put this delicately….exuding promises of heavenly carnal rewards that made the 7 times 7 virgins promised to good Muslims pale in comparison, Fritz just went nuts. As it happened Molly at that moment was, like any good, mindless Labrador, living in her “fetch“ moment, waiting for my brother to hurl her tennis ball yet again down the length of the yard.  If she noticed the small dog suddenly panting and bouncing away at her nether regions, she showed no sign of it.

In fact, that whole long, hot summer night she never once even looked over her shoulder at Fritz’s frantic and exhausting efforts to claim her love. Of course, these proceedings did not go unremarked by the men at the party. Suffice it to say that the phrase “cold-hearted bitch” was freely and widely applied to more than dogs of their acquaintance, and Fritz was given numerous pointers and advice as to technique. Fritz wasn‘t listening; he knew the superiority of Wieiner dog technique honed on many a fat-ass bear, and he was unrelenting in the pursuit of the biggest ass he had ever seen. Over and over he hurled himself at Molly’s ample backside until Molly would suddenly stand up and dump him without ceremony on the ground as she ran, delirious with joy, to fetch the sudden abundance of tennis balls the party goers were helpfully tossing for her. When it became obvious that Fritz would have a stroke before he gave up the game, I hauled him panting and whining down to the beach and threw him in the ocean.   It would be 5 more years before he looked at another bitch.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            For a while after this tragic episode of unrequited love, Fritz lost interest in his favorite teddy bear, one he had for a surprisingly long time and kept intact. At home, Fritz would normally run upstairs, jump on the bed, and stare at his bear on the dresser until I got it down for him. But after Molly, he seemed to fade into himself and lose interest. There is actually a poem written about it, called “The Teddy Bear’s Lament”:

Oh Fritz dog, my Fritz dog,
You’ve left me all alone!
I sit upon my little shelf
And wish I was your bone.
You used to sit upon the bed
Across the room from me
And stare into my button eyes
And whine most piteously.
And when we got together,
You’d drag me’ round the floor
And rip my eyes and chew my ears….
Then you screwed the Labrador.
Oh Fritz Dog, my Fritz Dog,
You’re heading for a fall.
You know that mindless
Fat black bitch
Would leave you for a ball!

Fritz actually went and buried his head under his blanket in humiliation (a first) as I wrote this. I explained to him this is a book informing new Wiener-owners about Wiener care, and would he rather I forego completely such an important topic as Wiener/Bear/Labrador love? I think I heard a muffled “Urk!”, but I’m forging on in the interest of total Wiener disclosure.

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