Dog - Day After Day Ch. 03

I now know that dogs get two meals a day. No midday meal for doggie me. Not for the next week, anyway. Breakfast is by way of scatter feeding. It's a dog thing.

Mary introduced scatter feeding at breakfast for the best of reasons. She read out all the advantages to me that first night as I lay shivering and shaking in my pet crate. I was recovering from a severe ball beating she had administered in almost the first minute of my life as her pet. Okay, I deserved it, no need to go over that. Enough to say that I hadn't quite got the adoring, obedient pet thing down pat. An attitude adjustment was in order. Not complaining, but it was very sore.

Because of my traumatised state following the ball beating, Mary decided it would be safer, or more secure, to keep me locked in the crate for the night. She was probably worried that I might try and leap through the backdoor window and make a run for it, or, if I was still feeling dog-like, sneak upstairs and attack her; tear lumps out of her throat with my teeth while she was sleeping, in best XXL Bully dog style.

Even though she was caging me for the night, she was most solicitous, guiding me in on my hands and knees, head first. That meant I was facing the wall, my head away from the entrance side of the crate. Before closing the crate door behind me, she slipped her hand between my legs from behind and gently gripped my sore and tender balls. I froze, fearing more punishment, emitting a few shivery 'wheeii, wheeii' beseeching whimpers. But she just ever so gently massaged my balls, rolling them slowly over and back against my groin. The pain gradually eased.

"I didn't like to have to do that to my little doggie pet, especially on your first night," she whispered from somewhere behind my ear, continuing to softly knead my aching testicles. "But all the books say that the puppy has to learn from the get-go just who is the boss. Dogs are very hierarchical. It's part of being a dog to know where you come in the pecking order and to behave accordingly. And you do understand that now. Don't you, Doggie?"

"Woof."

"Good dog. Rover is the name I'm giving you, by the way. It was that or Spot. Rover suits you better, I think. Don't you?"

"Woof," I agreed. Not that I cared what she called me just then. But I now knew where I was in the pecking order, and what that meant: Total obedience. I also knew she still held the riding crop in her other hand.

"I'll get your other blanket, before I lock you in. You can snuggle under that for the night. Be nice and cosy in your crate. Won't that be nice, Doggie."

"Woof." I agreed again, even though one part of me felt like telling her where to take all her weechie, weechie, wee, baby talk. But that part of me had already gotten my balls beaten, and was in retreat. The other part won out, the part of me that still wanted to be her pet dog. After all, I was only twenty minutes into my week long dog life experiment and I was the one that wanted it in the first place.

On mature reflection, or after Mary had straightened out my thinking on the subject, I accepted that It was wrong to think about bailing out before the experiment had even begun. Mary was still massaging my balls gently while letting me know what lay ahead.

"Good, Doggie. Now I'll give you a little heads up about how the mornings will go. First, I'll let you out of your crate and put you on the long lead. That will be tied off to something in the back yard, letting you roam around the patio area and a bit up into the garden. You'll probably need to pee after being locked in your crate all night. Then, I'll give you your breakfast by scatter feeding. That means I'll fling the dried kibble out the kitchen window into the yard and you go around finding each piece and eating it. Got that?"

"Woof," I acknowledged, obediently, even though it sounded like a pretty grim way to start the day, but what else could I say? An occasional shudder still ran through me as I recovered from the ball beating. Whatever my owner suggested was good by me. But she must have sensed the doubt in my woof.

"Don't be alarmed, Doggie. This is not some punishment. There are very good reasons for feeding a dog this way. I'll read out what it says in my dog training booklet. But first let's get you get settled in the crate. Lie down and I'll put the second blanket over you."

Ahh. She was being nice to me now. Reinforcing my good compliant behaviour. The pet had learned his lesson. Well, he had. I wriggled around till I was lying on my side, my back against the wire mesh of one side of the crate, my front facing up the room looking towards the open living room door. Through it, I could hear the muted tones of some programme on the TV. I could see the couch I wouldn't be allowed sit on for the next week. The warm low lights scattered about the room contrasted with the harsh single central light shining down on me through the top of the crate. Two worlds on view. The world of human comforts and civilisation versus the harsh world of the caged animal who, next morning, would be sent out to scrabble about for his breakfast in the yard.

Mary reached into the crate and tucked the folded blanket under my chin, wrapping it over my mitt encased paws and pressing it down behind my back between me and the wire mesh. I felt like a toddler being tucked into his cot. It was nice, a little comfort at last. I heard the catch click into place when she closed the crate door. No need for a padlock. For all intents and purposes, I was locked into the crate until she chose to open the door and let me out. I heard her rustling through her booklet as she sat out of my line of sight on the only chair in the room.

"Now, let me see. Here we are: 'Scatter feeding is an easy way to enrich your dog's day. Dogs are natural scavengers. Scenting and foraging for food mimics what they would be doing in the wild, and releases dopamine which makes them feel good. A dog's sense of smell is its most important sense. Exercising our dog's brain and bodies through their nose helps them to become calmer, more settled and satisfied. Scatter feeding taps into that sense of smell, and how they naturally explore the world around them.' That's what the experts say about scatter feeding, Rover. Basically, it's good for dogs. Let's them exercise their sense of smell."

"Since you are a dog, we must find ways to make full use of your sense of smell. The pellets are flavoured with something, beef I think, so that should help you smell them out. Of course you'll be able to see most of them, those on the patio anyway. But those that land in the grass will probably need a bit of sniffing out. As an incentive for you to find all your breakfast pellets, I will add a day to your dog life for each food pellet I find or step on later in the day. Deal?"

What choice did I have, but to agree? But that's pressure. That will make breakfast my most anxious meal of the day. I gave a downbeat 'woof' just to stay on the right side of my owner, and feeder.

"Now sleep tight, Doggie," Mary concluded briskly, not moved by my lack of enthusiasm for scatter feeding. She snapped the booklet closed and walked out into the living room without a backward glance. I watched her departing back as she switched off the light and then closed the door, plunging me into darkness. My first night as a pet dog commenced. My balls were no longer actively throbbing and sore, but no doubt were still tender and swollen. I would have liked to give them a gentle rub, but even though my paws were no longer tied to my collar, the hard pads didn't allow for doing anything gently.

With the thick pads preventing any feeling getting through to my fingers, looking after myself under the blanket seemed to be off the agenda for the next week. I'd have to depend on Mary giving me a good time, sometime. Which brought me back to thinking about Mary and her booklet. What else was in that booklet, I wondered? Typical of Mary to have gotten a book about keeping a pet dog. And, knowing her, she will follow that book to the letter. My last thought before drifting off into a fitful sleep was that it would be useful to get a look at that book.

I woke early, a bit cramped and needing to pee. Having just a scratchy blanket folded in four under me was a long way short of mattress-level comfort. Eventually, I heard Mary moving around upstairs. The sound of the toilet flushing and the shower running did nothing for my bladder. But I was determined to give an enthusiastic welcome to my owner when she came down. A fresh start. Here is your good little doggie all eager to see you. Eager to leap up and lick your face even, if allowed, and your pussy too, especially that, if allowed.

Manoeuvring myself up into the crouching position ready to get out of the cage, listening for her footsteps on the stairs, I thought this must be how a puppy feels when he hears his owner approaching. If I had a tail, I would have wagged it.

As soon as Mary came into the room, I gave a few eager 'woofs' and bounced up and down the little that I could in the tight confines of the cage, my back hitting the top each time, causing it to rattle.

She was dressed only in loose short shorts and a tee-shirt, wearing flip-flops on her bare feet. Probably no underwear, I guessed, getting a little carried away at the thought of nuzzling my face up between her thighs, pushing the loose shorts to one side with my puppy dog tongue and getting to work on her pussy.

"My, aren't we an excited little puppy. Happy to see me, are we?"

"Woof, woof, woof."

"Well, I'll be with you in two seconds," breezed Mary, passing on through into the kitchen. "Just a mo, while I put on the kettle."

"Woof," I replied, thinking it best to acknowledge her promise, though a little disappointed that she didn't come straight over to me.

At the sound of the water splashing noisily into the kettle, I couldn't help a small burst of pee shooting out onto the blanket below me. I gripped my thighs together tightly and managed to avoid any more accidents as I heard Mary's footsteps approach.

"Does puppy want to get out then?" she burbled happily behind me, fiddling with the latch. I thought it best to communicate some sense of urgency. This was no longer the time for playful interaction with puppy. Puppy need to go.

"Wheeii, wheeii," I wailed, asking her to get a move on. Finally, I heard the latch slide open.

"Well, back out of there, Rover. Show me how happy you are to see your owner."

Since my little burst of pee in the cage, I was too much in need of going to consider doing any fancy loving puppy stuff, like jumping all over her, or licking her face or whatever. Any playful romping was out of the question. Instead, I made a dash for the back door on my hands and knees. On the way, I tried to waggle my ass over and back as if I had a tail to wag, hoping that would satisfy Mary's desire to know how happy I was to see her. I scrabbled at the door with my paws and gave a few more begging 'wheeiis,' looking back at Mary, still on her hunkers beside the cage, giving her my biggest sad, pleading puppy dog eyes.

"Ahhh, Does puppy want to go wee, wees," she smiled. The playful glint in her eyes hinted that she was amused by my predicament, and maybe even enjoying prolonging that predicament.

"Woof," was all I could muster by way of reply in my hurry to get out the door. It wasn't enough.

"Well, let's see you beg properly then, Rover," a harder edge creeping into her voice. This was now a power game. She probably felt I should have licked her feet or something when she let me out. Maybe she hoped I'd lick her pussy, or try to.

Unlikely, I decided, as I sat on my hunkers, knees spread, genitals exposed, and held my front paws up at my shoulders, bouncing up and down while pawing the air with my paws. I was very aware that my deflated penis with its damp tip was on full view, flopping up and down pathetically in time to my little bunny hops. Hoping to avoid a dribble. I failed, and a few splashes of pee formed a little puddle on the tiled floor between my knees.

"Wheeii, wheeii, wheeii,' I went, my eyes fixed pleadingly up at my owner. About as humiliating as it gets. I hoped that satisfied her; that she had brought me sufficiently low. I was wrong.

"Down," she instructed me and I went back on all fours. Mary grabbed a clump of my hair and pressed my head down till my face was in the tiny puddle of pee. She dragged my head back and forth through it a few times, smearing the little puddle until it was gone.

"That's what happens to naughty puppies who make a mess in the house. And don't think I didn't see your little pee stain on the blanket in the crate. You'll just have to sleep on it. Teach you not to do it again. That right?"

"Woof," as an apology it seemed inadequate. But there are limitations with a three word language. So I stayed low on my hands and feet keeping my head down near the ground as I said it. The guilty doggie apology pose. Mary seemed satisfied.

With a 'Let's go then,' she clipped the long lead to my collar and opened the back door. I scrambled down the steps on my mitt covered hands and my knee-padded knees and made for the nearest shrub in the lawn, the long lead extending out behind me. Mary hadn't said anything about standing up so I thought it best not to.

I briefly considered cocking one leg, true doggy style, or male dog anyway, but I wasn't sure what that would achieve. I might just end up peeing all over one of my front paws. The three legged pose was a bit too gymnastic for me to hold steady anyway. Instead, I lifted my legs straight and spread them while still resting my front 'paws' on the ground and started to pee.

If I wasn't in such a rush I might have waited for a command, but I didn't think dogs pee'd and poo'd on command. They were just given the opportunity and let get on with it. There was no stopping me anyway. Mary didn't object.

"Good boy," She cooed, when I finished, as if I had achieved some magnificent feat. This is the positive reinforcement, after the humiliating bit of negative reinforcement. It's all probably laid out in her dog training booklet. I didn't mind. Curiously, I didn't feel in the least bit embarrassed, just greatly relieved. I wondered if it was a sign that I was getting into the doggie head space Mary had harped on about before we started the great pet play experiment. The no shame space.

"That position you adopted to pee, I want you to use it for all your toilet needs. Okay."

"Woof."

"I like the way it displays your balls and bum from behind. I'll call it the display position. Remember that. If I ask you to 'display,' that's what you're to do. Straighten and lift up your hind legs and spread them while keeping your front paws on the ground"

"Woof," I replied in compliant doggie fashion, thought I was getting a bit fed up of the limited doggie vocabulary available to me.

"Let's see about getting you set up for breakfast," she continued, walking towards a small olive tree that was growing about fifteen feet from the back door.

"Now, how far you can reach on this lead from here," she asked me, clipping the handle end of the retractable lead around the base of the little tree. I shambled off on my hands and knees in the direction of the side boundary fence. There were various bushes and shrubs growing out from the fence and covering it completely. I worried briefly about bits of my breakfast landing in among the bushes, but was stopped well short of it anyway when the lead reached its furthest extent. No risk of having to go burrowing in the bushes then. Same for the other side boundary.

Going towards the back door, I was easily able to crawl across the patio slabs and reach the back door and then crawl most of the way along the back of the house on either side of the door. A tug on the lead and an imperious 'here, Rover' saw me crawl obediently back to Mary, the lead retracting up into its housing at the base of the olive tree. The 'here, Rover' thing was quite humiliating and I got an immediate erection.

"Now sit, Rover."

I gave a tired 'woof' as I adopted Mary's approved 'sit' position under the olive tree, thinking there are only so many woofs a dog can be expected to say in a day, and I felt close to my limit of woofing. Mary ignored my hard-on. Puppy sex didn't seem to be on the agenda yet.

"Okay. I'll scatter your breakfast within the area from the back wall of the house out over the patio, Mary advised, while absentmindedly scratching the back of my neck. It felt nice, prolonging my erection. Ever hopeful, I nuzzled my head in against her thigh hoping she'd look down and appreciate that I had gotten hard for my owner. But Mary was never a morning person in that regard. She was already moving towards the house, calling over her shoulder. "Stay, Rover. You'll see me fling the kibble out the kitchen window soon. You get three cups full. Spend as long as you like hunting down your breakfast, sharpening your sense of smell and exploring the world around you; all that good stuff. I've got to sign on after my breakfast and put in a few hours."

I offered a final 'woof' to Mary's departing back as she closed the door behind her. That left me alone, outside, tied to a tree and naked save for my dog mittens and pads. So this was the beginning of day one of my seven day dog life. It seemed like I'd been a dog for a long time already. I heard the birds tweeting in the bushes and all that, and tried to see myself as just another animal, out in the wild, almost, out with all the other animals.

This was a first. I could see a drop of precum ooze out the tip of my erect penis. I tried to bend my head down and lick it. That would be a good doggie thing to do I felt. But I couldn't reach. My fifty-five year old bod wasn't flexible enough, or maybe my slightly pudgy waist was the problem. But on reflection I'd never managed to lick the tip of my penis, ever. Maybe it's too small and short. I had seen dogs do it to theirs. So that's another doggie thing that is out of my reach, I thought.

Mary's final remark, 'she's going to put in a few hours at work' suddenly hit home. That meant I'd be sitting tied to this tree for a least three hours! Minimum. Out in the open! Help! No point in doing my dog whine, I decided. She won't hear it. And if I tried my loudest bark, and kept it up, a neighbour might get interested in the racket. I knew I could reach the door on the extendable lead. I could pound on it with my paws. But her home office is located at the front of the house, in the small converted bedroom over the front door. That was so she could see anyone who was coming up the drive. Probably wouldn't hear me anyway with her headphones on. Do nothing for now, I concluded, especially since I was only a few hours into my week-long life as a dog. It was a bit soon to start complaining. Might cause my owner to bring out the riding crop again. Anyway, breakfast was about to be served. That cheered me up.

On cue, the kitchen window opened, Mary's hand appeared holding a beaker. She tossed the contents out onto the patio. The clump of brown ball shaped bits of kibble hit the paving and bounced and rolled in all directions. I quickly crawled forward on my hands and knees, onto the patio to begin my meal. As I bent to get my lips around the first kibble ball, the second beaker full of food landed on my back and scattered. I quickly crawled to one side as the third beaker full landed, this time over to the far side of the patio away from me. Mary had probably just remembered that the point of the exercise was to scatter the food as far and wide as possible. The window slammed shut. I would have liked her to acknowledge that this was my first meal as a dog. An exhortation to 'eat up, Rover,' or even a sarcastic 'bon appetit' would have felt right. But nothing. I hoped she was enjoying her muesli and quietly wished her a 'bon appetit' in my best doggie French..