Ch 2: My Dog's Favorite Human
My Dog's Favorite Human
copyright 2010 comidacomida
There was a Dog pack at my new high school that tormented anyone and everyone they saw as a target... which was at least a third of the school. That included me... it ESPECIALLY included me. The Dogs made it a point to go after me every time I was in the senior hall. Senior hall was the central hallway at the school, so it was a common path for just about everyone, and I was exposed to them a lot. Sometimes it was name-calling or rough shoves into the lockers. Occasionally it was a firm rap on the shoulder with a closed fist. I knew that resisting would only make it worse... I'd learned that when I was 13.
The Dogs that thought they ruled the hall with an iron fist were nothing like the Dogs that had used and abused me before my family moved. Most of them came from comfortable lifestyles and, as I found out, were just low-life thugs through and through. While the Dogs on the street in San Diego had led hard lives out of necessity, it seemed that the bullies at my new high school chose the lives for themselves. Except for one. JD, a large black-and-white bull terrier was part of that 'bad crowd'.
I've learned a lot due to events in my life. For example, even though there are a lot of things I don't do well, one thing I have the hang of is seeing people... and I mean REALLY seeing people. Most people in life have a mask they wear... it's a demeanor they put on when they're in public so they can get through the day being whatever it is society expects of them. It helps people present a front without having to expose the soft underbelly of who it is they really are.
The majority of the Dogs in that bully pack were thugs, plain and simple. They led good, easy lives, but they didn't want to be seen as soft, so they put on that hard edge and aimed really low in life, thinking that they could underachieve easier than trying to do something with themselves. Some of the strongest, most forceful, most aggressive people I have met are actually someone completely different on the inside... they're often scared, afraid, vulnerable... they lack confidence... all the things they would never want the world to know about. That was the feeling I got from those Dogs; they would rather end up strung out on drugs or dead in a gutter than have to face real life.
The feeling I got from JD wasn't like that though. I could tell that JD came from the "have-nots"... that he was living life the best way he knew how and stuck with the Dog pack because he knew that six could fight off all-comers easier than one. JD had some deep-seated issues... ones he'd never be able to face because he was too busy hiding from them. He was out to hurt people because he was hurting on the inside; he knew that as long as he was always the bully then he'd never have to be the victim. I knew what would happen eventually to him... it wouldn't be so different than what would happen to the other Dogs he hung out with.
It stirred up memories of the rottweiler.. the one who couldn't let go of his own issues and ended up getting dragged down by them. I suppose that it really wasn't any of my business. I had thought a dozen times a day that those who gave out what those bullies did would end up deserving what they got. It would have been easy enough for me to avoid the hall-- it was the easiest way to get from one side of the building to the other but there were several other options. Every time I stood at the crossroads of hallways though, I kept thinking of JD... and the rottweiler... and I always took the central hall... always.
I knew some of the bullies of the Dog pack smoked, and it was more than tobacco. A few of them were starting to get into the heavier drugs, which was something I had expected of them. It happened mid way through my junior year. I didn't have to see them doing them; I knew all the signs. I think maybe only two of them weren't on drugs the day things really changed for me. The day was November 2nd. It was the anniversary of the day the rottweiler who raped me committed suicide. I didn't realize it would affect me as much as it did; after PE class I was alone in the locker room, and I began crying. I didn't want to cry... I hadn't planned on crying... but I was crying and I couldn't stop.
I didn't notice JD until he spoke up. He'd spoken to me often enough, but it was usually in a threatening or insulting manner. It wasn't so much what he said that caught my attention, but the tone he used. There was a hint that his societal mask had slipped when I heard the hesitant "uh..." from him. I remember feeling angry right then. I didn't want anyone to see me cry. I'd spent years on medication to keep me from feeling anything and it was important that everyone knew I was a good little automaton. I snapped out of it when I saw JD's ears droop and the half-step-back he took.
"Go ahead... you probably have a good one-liner for a situation like this." I snapped at him. I remember feeling surprised at my own audacity to goad him on... but I think seeing him shirk away and cease meeting my gaze was more surprising than that. JD was naked, except for a towel, and he took a moment to wrap it more tightly around his waist, as if it were protection of some kind from the crying, lunatic human with a death-wish in front of him. As he was walking over I fully expected him to beat me to a pulp, but I found myself surprised again when he just sat down next to me, staring at the row of lockers across the way.
"Nothing really fits." he admitted, "you know... the one-liner thing." the terrier rubbed the back of his head, letting out a big breath. I could tell he was uncomfortable. I tried not to let it show how uncomfortable I was too. "Out of everyone at the school I figured you maybe had some operation to have your tear-thingies removed."
I fought hard not to smirk at the word 'thingies'. "Ducts." I told him, "tear ducts."
"Did you?" he asked, glancing at me, his ears going up in surprise, "you really had em removed?" the honest-to-goodness earnest response caught me off-guard... but in a good way.
"No." I answered, and, before I knew it, we were talking... REALLY talking. He asked a lot of questions and, surprising myself, I actually answered them. All of them. Every last question he could think of to ask. He asked about me taking everything he and 'the boys' (as he called them) threw my way, and I explained that I learned that sometimes choosing not to fight took more strength than fighting. He asked about me crying, and I told him that it was a really REALLY bad day (though I didn't tell him about the significance of the anniversary).
When he pressed for information I somehow couldn't resist answering... and then I told him about my mom and dad... about life at home... about therapists, and psychologists, and psychiatrists, and about medication. His face remained neutral for the entire discussion; I could tell that he was listening and that his mind was working to process everything he was being told... but I could also tell that something was missing. There was something I fully expected to see in his eyes, but it was completely absent; he was not judging.
When I had said my piece and answered those last questions, JD began talking. I didn't have to ask any questions because it came out in one big torrent, not unlike my own story. I listened in rapt attention as he talked about his home life, about his mother the drunk, about how he got his name because she was angry at having to give up drinking while she was pregnant. He told me about how he always had to deal with his mom being drunk and the different ways he tried to get through the hours he had to spend at home. "I know how you feel." was the only thing I said-- it was the only thing I could have said, because I felt that I really DID know.
It was surreal how much our lives paralleled one another. There was an element of realization for me when I saw him looking down at his paws, the vulnerability he displayed and the purity of the emotions that were staining his expression of introspection... the hurt and pain... the uncertainty. Everything about it told me that I was right in how I perceived him from even the first day. "You know..." I spoke quietly, pulling him out of his self-inflicted angst, "out of that whole group in senior hall, I think you're the only one who ever really bothered me."
His ears went up as he looked at me, then slowly lowered before drooping, "Oh yea?" he asked, "Why's that?"
"Because I think you're the only one there who has a chance to do better than what you're doing." I realize now the comment could have come across as an insult, but if you understood 'the moment' we were sharing, you'd realize that we both knew how I meant to use it.
"Yea... well I think you're probably one a the few. Most folks see a bull terrier and they automatically picture him in a prison jump suit with tattoos all up and down his arm like some kinda way of keeping count of the people whose lives he's screwed over." JD commented, looking down to the space between us on the bench where his paw sat next to my hand.
I put my hand on top of his paw as he watched. It was a strange thing to do, I know, but there was something about what he said that seemed... real. I knew people tended to sectionalize Dogs... I knew that there were certain breeds that really had to fight to become more than their stereotype. There was more to JD than most people realized, even more than I had first thought. I felt a strange sense of peace as my hand rested atop his paw and I watched an uncertain smile slowly replace the expression of emotional pain that had been threatening to overtake his face.
I felt the tears start to come again as I thought back to that same expression the first time I saw it... the rottweiler who had raped me wore it every time we were together. It had been a feature on JD's muzzle throughout our discussion, but it was finally going away. I started crying but I didn't bother holding back that time. I'd never cried like that-- I never felt like it was okay to. Even as I did, I kept wondering how and why I did it... but I stopped wondering when I felt the terrier's thick, strong arms fold around me and pull me into his embrace.
It was a strange gesture for both of us, I felt his hesitation in it and I know I was a little surprised at first... but that surprise faded as I felt the warmth of his body even through his fur, and the carefulness with which he squeezed me to him made me realize that he didn't plan on hurting me, "I knew you weren't just a huge bully..." I remember saying.
"I guess you were right." he breathed back, "sure showed me..." he chuckled a little, and I felt a teardrop land on my head. "It's not a bad thing though, right?" he pressed the discussion, as if having to make up for it, "I'm a bully by nature, ya know? Comes with being one of the breed." he faltered there, clearing his throat and I felt another tear land in my hair, "Who says bullies can't be nice guys too though? And... uh... most bullies aren't all bad."
I could feel him starting to pull back; both his words and his body gave little hints that he was searching around for a way to regain his society-required demeanor. He didn't resist when I pulled away, and he just sat there as I turned to him. JD was not a Bad Dog... I realized that. There was something else to him that I felt I needed to know-- I had to be sure. Slowly, I leaned in toward him until my face was only a half inch away from his, and then I heard him make a quick intake of breath when he realized what I had in mind. He didn't pull away though, and my lips touched his muzzle. When I heard his tail beating out a quick tempo on the bench, I knew all I needed to.
"My name's Jason." I told him.
"JD." he answered simply. I could tell he realized his tail was going, but he was making a point to act casually about it, his ears reddening regardless.
We talked more and we sat closer. As our discussion came to a close I simply put my head against his chest. I could feel his powerful heart beating in his chest and a soft rumble came up from him when my body rested against his. "That's not all you wanted to say... was it?" he asked. taking my wrist in one of his large paws and pulled me a little closer. Images of the rottweiler flooded back into my mind and I struggled out of reflex. JD quickly let go of my wrist, leaning away from me.
Our eyes met and I saw a mix of confusion and embarrassment in his face. "Was it?" he repeated, quieter, and with less confidence.
I swallowed hard, knowing that I'd ruined the moment. A thousand thoughts shot through my head, remembering the rottweiler... being taken as a plaything... I didn't have any choice. I was helpless. I swallowed again, feeling helpless even then as I looked at the large dog staring at me. There was lust in his eyes, that much was apparent. "No... that's all..." I managed to speak up, "Nothing else."
JD nodded, and let out a deep breath, slowly standing up, "okay... if you're sure." and that was it. The terrier made no further move toward me. I saw him draw inward again, probably reviewing the events to find out what he did wrong. He didn't do anything wrong, but there was no way I could tell him that the problem was with me... the problem always seemed to be with me. His towel slowly slid down off his waist, left on the bench, and it was then that I realized just how interested he was, and how hard it must have been for him to just leave it at that.
There was something different about that moment. I wasn't sure if I was the one in control, but I knew without a doubt that, for once, I wasn't without control. There was an amount of empowerment that came with knowing that 'no' would be honored... and that's when I realized that JD was not a 'Bad Dog', and I think he realized it too. "I'm not sure." I told him, and he paused, turning back to look at me.
I moved up to him and pressed my body against his, both of us completely naked. I'd be lying if I said there wasn't something erotic about it... but it was more than just that. There was a connection... something I think both of us needed. "Not sure about what?" he asked, slowly folding his thick arms around me, fur sliding across my skin in a way that has no comparison... no simile... no equal.
"About any of this... but I am sure of one thing." I admitted, slowly pushing him down to the bench.
"What's that?" he asked, a hesitant smile spreading across his muzzle as I knelt down on the ground between his spread legs. His voice was shaking slightly as he spoke.
"You're a good boy." I said. It was a cliche line... but his tail started beating immediately. It only wagged faster, and we both missed lunch.
That was the first time I willingly had oral sex with a dog. I didn't really understand it at the time, but I realize that having a choice made all the difference. JD was willing to walk away when I told him no... and, at that moment, it was the sexiest thing about him. I've had years to find more sexy things too, but there's no doubt that it made all the difference.
There was a transitioning time for both of us as we got used to one another... I think things were harder for him. JD realized that he didn't need the Dog pack anymore but they weren't willing to let him go that easy. I drove him to the hospital the day he got suspended; from what I hear it was quite a fight, but they never bothered either of us after that. I was proud of him, and I told him that all the time. He told me that he needed to be a better dog if he was going to be worthy of being a 'good boy'... that thought always made me smile.
"24/7, my work is never done" That's what he told me years ago in high school, back when he first became my protector. My Guard Dog. At the time, I'm not sure if he completely realized the impact those words had on me, but that was the first time in my life that I had ever felt truly important; that I ever felt cared for. The fact was that he thought I was worth protecting-- worth his devotion. It made me feel...I can't quite describe it, but after the years of medicated numbness, he made me feel so...warm.
A few years later, when we were roommates while I was going to college, I got JD his first collar. It was apparent by that time that he was a Burb Dog or, more specifically, a Guard Dog. I'd known him well enough then to realize exactly what kind of collar he needed. JD's collar was black leather with metal studs, like the kind you'd expect to see on a four legged dog guarding a junk yard. Our relationship was more than just a collar though, so I had a special inscription written on the inside; it was his mantra.
He slept with me in my bed that night, and I remember waking up in the morning, JD still passed out next to me, sprawled across my bed in a way he just couldn't manage sleeping on the couch in the livingroom of the one bedroom apartment. I had almost a full hour to run my fingers through his fur, caress his belly, and enjoy all the cute sounds he made when he slept, though I'd never tell him he made 'cute sounds' while he slept... at least, not to his face. I enjoyed the feeling of laying beside my guard dog. It was another thing that made me feel so wanted, so loved... so warm.
It seems silly that here I am, a professional journalist and the best I can come up with is "warm", but the truth is there is no way to accurately describe it. Most people grow up knowing what it feels like to be loved and cared for but for me it wasn't until I got to know JD that I got to experience that amazing feeling for the first time. How do you describe something like that to someone who's known it all their life? It'd be like trying to describe the joy brought by the first sunny day of spring after a cold cloudy winter to someone who lives where it's warm and sunny everyday. They just won't get it.
And, even now, years later after he first spoke those words to me, JD still lives by them everyday. He likes to tell me that I am his "favorite" and "you take care of your favorite things." And to tell you the truth, every time I hear him say that, I get the same rushing warmth that I felt when he first spoke his personal mantra to me. There is absolutely no one I would rather be than my Dog's favorite human.