My dog has a girlfriend. A human one. I haven't mentioned her before even though Ray has loved her for quite some time, because I never realized the true depth of his emotions. She lives down the street from us and is somewhere around my age. She has a cheery chirp of a voice, though, which makes her seem about 30 years younger. She's not too tall, not too short, not too thin, and not too wide; and she has a nice pillowy bosom. To Ray, she is perfect.
Yesterday, she came over for some knitting advice, which she does on occasion. Ray met her at the door with all his usual enthusiasm. Cindy and I settled in on the couch. Ray stationed himself in front of her. I gave Cindy some instruction (I am not a good knitter, I just know how) and she sat knitting a few rows to get the hang of what she was doing. Her hands were up against her body because Ray's head was slightly in the way, overhanging her lap. When he realized he wasn't getting the attention he wanted, Ray stood, put his front paws on her knees, and loomed over her. Cindy kept knitting. Ray lifted one paw and put it on Cindy's right breast. Cindy kept knitting.
"Uh, Ray, what are you doing?" I asked my dog, trying not to sound mortified.
"Yes, Ray, that's my boob," said Cindy to my dog, removing his large paw from her person.
Undeterred, Ray climbed up on the couch between us, his head nearer to Cindy. Instead of curling into a tight little ball like he usually does. Ray lounged on his side, looking all sexy-dog. He casually reached out one paw and put in on Cindy's left breast.
"Uh..." I said.
"Yes, Ray, that's my other boob," said Cindy, removing his large paw from her person again.
Ray's paw dropped to Cindy's lap, and there it remained while Cindy knit away.