It was a usual Saturday, with Carlos Santana, the Pug who talks to me, at one end of the sofa and I at the other. He was comfortable because he had stretched to his full length, leaving me a small portion to squeeze my bottom in.
“You know Carlos, every once in a while, a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do. You know what I mean. Sow his wild oats, so to speak,” I said.
“Not at your age, dude,” he shot back, “besides, if you do anything to hurt her, just remember, I have a very special set of skills. I will look for you. I will find you and I will pee all over your feet.”
“Somebody has been watching ‘Taken’” I said, “By the way, I was not talking about me. I was talking about you.”
His head was up in a flash. “Me?”
“Yep,” I said, “you and Rani would make a good pair.”
“Rani?” he said with a hint of worry, trepidation and surprise. “Rani? Are you serious? NO, WE WOULDN’T MAKE A GOOD PAIR.”
“But she’s always giving you the looks when I take you for a walk,” I said, “and you always stop for a better look yourself.”
Carlos stood up on his fore legs, which he did when he was agitated. “Let’s get this straight, I am the BMW of dogs. So, no thank you, I will not sow my wild oats with anyone who takes your fancy.”
After that exchange, everything went quiet for a while. The silence was too loud to bear and I felt compelled to break it.
“Alright then, are you okay with me putting an ad in the newspapers? I mean to invite other pugs who are single and willing to mingle,” I said.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked.
“Let me put it this way,” I explained, “there is a demand for Pug wild oats and if the sowing is successful and the girl has a good harvest, I will get a portion of the sales.”
“Are you seriously trying to make money off me now?” he asked, with anger plus some rage.
“I paid good money for you and I am still paying. So it wouldn’t hurt to get some in return,” I explained.
“You are such a cheapskate,” he said with resignation, “but I’ll do it, on two conditions.”
“Shoot,” I said.
“First, she has to be a girl because I am not that kind of guy,” he said like he was dictating a memo to a secretary. “Second, If I don’t like her, I retain the right to walk away without an explanation.”
“Deal,” I said. “What kind of girl would you prefer?”
He thought for a while. “She has to be well endowed, I mean curvy. She has to have a soft coat of fur, strong legs, an ample behind and eyes that ooze of passion, desire, hunger and a little defiance.”
“Great,” I said, “I will put that down in the ad….”
“That’s not all,” he interrupted, “You will have to arrange a candle-light dinner with fresh lamb, boneless, cooked medium rare. No salt because salt messes with my pressure. Some potatoes on the side, pumpkin and a full boiled egg. And you are picking up the tab for all this.”
“This is going to be the most expensive romantic night in the history of pugs,” I said.
“Call it what you want,” he shot back, “but when she gets here, I want you out.”