X & Y

I've always been amazed how the opposite sex functions. Several times, I've daydreamed of having a penis for a day, just so I could aim while I peed. I'm jealous that males get a hormone that literally makes them strong and females get stuck with estrogen, which makes us bat-shit crazy at least one week every month (sure, it's designed to make us better protectors, but really, isn't that why alarm systems where invented). I've read books comparing male and female brain development, and watched specials on understanding the opposite sex. But the best thing I ever did to process the differences between sexes was observe 'Nook and Lola.

Talking: girls thrive on conversation; guys tend to avoid it. It's been said that women talk so much because our female animal ancestors could only survive in packs (want to know why women go to the bathroom together? There's your answer). Where we lack in muscle mass, we make up for in social skills. Lola is living proof of this. That dog is one mouthy bitch. When her stomach starts growling, she barks. When she needs to go out, she lets out a gurgley howl. When she's knocked her favorite squeaky tennis ball under the couch for the 23rd time of the day, she whimpers. She knows what she wants, and knows telling us about her problem will get her results.

Then there's 'Nook. Much like the males who came before (and after) him, 'Nook doesn't make a damn noise, unless it's to bark at some random object (usually a trash can) to show he's dominant. He lays for hours on end, his head under the coffee table, not making a peep. He won't tell me he needs to go out, unless his bladder is about to explode. Even then, he'll mosey on over to wherever I am, and start breathing hard or huffing excessively instead of simply barking.

Nook also hates cuddling, or at least pretends like it cramps his macho-style. Sure, he'll sleep in the bed with Will and I, but he does so in a ninja-like fashion, creeping up in the middle of the night so he won't be noticed. We'll go to bed, with Lola snuggled up by Will's chest and 'Nook asleep on the floor, and wake up with 'Nook sleeping on our feet. Every now-and-then, I'll wake up, to see him slowly putting one paw on the bed, only to quickly pull it off once eye-contact is made. This, while Lola snored, probably because her face was planted firmly in Will's pectorals. 

But the biggest laugh for me, comes when observing their different bathroom strategies. For Lola, it's a wham-bam-thank-you-mam sort of process. She barks at Will to let him know it's time, then goes outside and quickly pees and poops. Not Nanook. You might as well give that boy a newspaper, because it takes him for-freaking-ever. First, he'll sniff everything. I. MEAN. EV-ER-Y-THING. Then, when he thinks he's found a good spot, he'll spin in circles, as if to fully take in the clean air before his shit ruins it. More often than not, mid-circle ceremony, he'll decide to change spots, take two steps, and start his process over again. It's time-consuming to say the least. So much so, that I don't wager Will money or sex anymore. I wager taking Nanook out.

Sure, it sounds cliche to propose my male dog hates speaking & cuddling, but adores taking forever in the bathroom. But it's true. Go ahead, come over and see for yourself. He'll be the one barking at you from a distance while Lola tries to lick your face.

Boy Meets Girl

When Will and I became serious (ya know, when we actually realized we had been together longer than a year, questioned why, then decided the answer wasn't important because we were having too much fun), I noticed something strange. He would start saying really odd things when referring to Nanook like, "I'm taking my dog outside," or "My dog is so cute." This went on for quite some time, until the let-it-go part of me couldn't actually let it go any longer.

On a normal day, after Will said something like, "You're the best dog I've ever had" to Nanook, I lost my shit.

In a very loud, almost screaming tone, I proclaimed, "Let's get one thing straight. Nanook is mine. Not yours mine. So, if we break up, he's coming with me, because he's mine. Not yours."

Startled, he muttered, "O.K.," then continued petting Nanook.

This is where Lola comes in. Shortly after this proclamation, Will moved to Savannah (probably to get away from my hormones), and decided to get a dog of his own. His. Not mine. So, we went to a friend's house who's dog had recently gave birth, and picked out an adorable six month old puppy we ... errr... he decided to name Lola. Will picked her because she was the only pup in the litter who didn't nip at our feet. She seemed calm. So, we decided to take her home to Nanook.


We found out very quickly that Lola does not have a calm, lazy nature like Nanook. In fact, she's exactly the opposite. She's a hyper, ear-nipping, bitchy, punching, adorably annoying dog. Yet, that works for Nanook. In the early days, she'd wake up, go to the bed that Nanook shoved his body under, and yank the hell out of his tail until he moseyed out from under the bed and played with her. She'd bite his jowels when she was bored, pull on his neck when she needed company, and tug on his ears when she wanted a buddy. Every single time, he'd give in, like a nerdy boy who was getting attention from a hot blonde.

The same is still true today. Lola can say "Porsche" and Nanook would give up all his dog food until she got it. The only thing he won't give her is his squeaky balls. It's kinda like asking a nerd to play with his Star Trek figurines. It's not gonna happen. But the two are inseparable. Even at the dog park, with twenty other dogs to play with, they stick together. It's a little sickening, but hey ... it's love.