Waggles, the Piddling Pup

Waggles, the Piddling Pup

       by Plays-With-His-Pudding

Waggles sniffed at herself and stood up to follow Milky who went down the stairs, out the door, to the grocery and back again with a half pint of cream for his porridge.

       "You can't be too careful nor too full," Milky lisped. Waggles agreed. She ate some of her dried food and went to the window to watch garbage pick-up along the ally. Milky put all the cream in his bowl, ate his cereal and dressed for work.      

       Waggles did little all day except wait on Milky. By which I mean that he waited for Milky. That is the same thing in the dog world. When one waits for, one waits on. Waggles planned all day long how she would greet Milky at the door. Would it be with a puddle of piss? Would she have that day's daily paper torn and wet? Would she be nice this time and simply stretch and yawn as if she had been sleeping and was contented? She had about five hundred options from which to choose and she sorted through them all each day at leisure, in time settling on just the right one to pleasure herself when her master arrived back at the door.

       She was doing what a woman does who wishes to please her boss for a series of days and weeks so that he will either give her more work if she is an ambitious employee, or less if she prefers to spend her time talking and doing little. Either way, she plans her entrances and exits. Entrance one: high heels, short skirt, red lipstick, red fingernails, big earrings, a flower in the hair and a low cut blouse opened a few buttons. Boss notices. Exit one: bend down low enough, when he comes to the door a few minutes after closing time, for him to see well down her blouse and then to notice up her legs as she takes off her pumps and puts on her after-work shoes. Skirt hiked, garter showing. White under black.

       Entrance two: boss comes in. She is on a ladder cleaning a high window with a cleaning spray and rag, reaching high, reaching low. No nylons. Bare legs. Visibility up to the crotch. Exit two: changes in the bathroom with the door opened a crack, boss looking out of his opened door watching her hidden movements. And so on. Entrances and exits three, four, five, six, seven, and all the way up to twenty if need be. Lots of time in the work day to plan these, and to think about just the right combo.

       Waggle's subject possibilities--i.e. large general strategies--for when Milky came home included manipulation in these categories. Barking: running about the apartment in a state of high agitation, barking insanely, difficult to catch and exhibiting apparent malevolence; easily offended; intermittent sharp growls, especially when close to Milky.

       Sickness: weak-looking, body flagging and spent, hunkered down not on a comfortable chair or couch but in an unlikely corner on newspaper as if she were about to throw up and had taken thoughtful precautions to keep Milky from experiencing any disease and extra work just on her behalf; eyes lidded and veiled, not in anger but exhaustion; fur disheveled (gotten by licking herself the wrong way and against the grain, as well as by rolling on the dusty basement concrete shortly before Milky's arrival.      Indifference: not noticing Milky's entrance nor his happy inquiries about her health;  sleeping unperturbed under the table and not moving a muscle when Milky asked what she had been occupied with all day. In this state she had to stay for many hours to be effective and so she chose it seldom. It required too much of a sustained effort, something that she had a distaste for most weeks.

       Intelligence: looking smart when he came home. surrounding herself with opened books and newspapers neatly spread, the editorial pages or world affairs pages visible; squinting intently and with a busy eye at Milky when he inspected her for symptoms of something or other; barking politely in greeting and not muzzling or rubbing up against his legs, but instead returning to her fretful movements over the papers and books as if she still had a great deal to study before the day was done.

       Waggles had much toil each day simply deciding which of these strategies would bring Milky to a certain height of daily interest in his dog's state of affairs. Waggles won with wicked regularity this game of "Remember me, I have many desires."