MY DOG, MAUDE’S SEX LIFE. Not themed. By Eliza Lawrence.

MY DOG, MAUDE’S SEX LIFE. Not themed. By Eliza Lawrence.

MAUDE MY DOG.

January 5th. A Thursday. Red spots found on the dog’s pillow. Soft whimpers and soft cry’s from the women in the house knowing what she had.
Food was left uneaten. RARE.
Maude was seen spread out like drunken clothes at the end of a night. her Lids were half closed like the introverted neighbours shutters next door.
She had officially started her first ever period. The affect was the HORN.
The reason for its feature on the blog is because of the brutish and bold reaction of the dude dogs on my walk, on the realisation my dog was on HEAT.

DOG SEX. Something I had known happened, had even seen, but when it’s your dog it instantly becomes a little more interesting.
January 6th. A Friday. Maude is horny. She has chosen her ‘household’ mate to be her own bed. The bed is slowly becoming stained by tiny red spots and watery slobber where she has grabbed her bed in order to hold, and vigorously pump away at.
She has to be on a lead. The Mother looked it up that the male dogs can smell her sexual availability and procreative ability from miles away. I laughed.
After the walk I apologised for my laughter.
On lead. Firm hand on the rope we slide ourselves into the park. She seems different instantly as she spots her victim.
She changes her geeky wobble to a wise saunter, shaking her hips side by side like the staccato pigeons that surround her. She’s not interested in the pigeons. RARE.
Now this was the golden moment. A male dog notices her.
My hands get rope burn.
I have never seen such an urge to just ‘DO IT’. Nothing else. This was all there is for Maude at this one time. Her survival. I pulled her away but she didn’t like it. Nor did this majestic Jack Russell, I think his name was ‘Graham’. Graham and Maude. There was no satisfaction on either side and Maude stomped home, she stood to attention in case Graham was watching, and her eyes tactically averted from mine.
She was officially sexually frustrated. I comforted her that I also was in her situation. It didn’t translate.
I let her in. She scampered across the floor to her bed.
And there she was getting all of her frustration over Graham on her bed. The picture displays this.
All I’m thinking is, why isn’t it just this simple for us ?

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