On Christmas Eve we went to our friend Kathy's house. Kathy has two small dogs: a fine-boned little mutt named Weasel and a friendly long-haired dachshund named Wendy.
We were hanging out in Kathy's dining room, eating caviar and drinking wine and catching up on the news; Sonya and I had not seen Kathy or her boyfriend, Ward, since May or so. This was after we walked into the dining room earlier in the evening and found Weasel standing with all four feet on the table, eating the slices of ham Kathy had laid out.
So Kathy and Sonya and I were in the dining room while Ward talked with Kathy's dad, who was watching It's a Wonderful Life in the living room. Wendy and Weasel were running back and forth from the kitchen to the living room, nipping and growling at each other. Finally, Wendy and Weasel stopped at our feet and began vigorously humping each other with first Weasel on top, then Wendy. They kept this up for a while, rolling around and swapping the dominant position.
Little dogs having sex is funny, and I laughed my ass off.
"They're not as bad as they used to be," Kathy said, "when they first got together they'd get on the couch and hump for hours. They were like teenagers."
The day after Christmas we stopped by my sister's house on the way out of town to pick up Lyne, my niece, who was going to spend a few days in New Orleans with us. Lyne has a dog named Nicky; he's a little black poodle. Roxy followed Sonya and I into the house and immediately started to menace Nicky, who is about half her size. Roxy has always loved terrorizing dogs smaller than herself. She growled at him. She showed her teeth. Nicky was the picture of submission, tucking his tail between his legs and slinking away from her.
Finally, Roxy went in the kitchen and took a big dump in the middle of the floor.
"Here's a little present for you, junior," she said to Nicky.
"Oh thank you, sir!" Nicky yelped, "would you like to crap in my bowl, perhaps?"
"Bitch," Roxy muttered as she walked out the door. It was an ugly scene.