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From: Uther Pendragon <nogardneprethu@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} repost "He Doesn't" {Uther} (mf fsolo zoo)
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Date: Tue, 01 Jun 2010 21:10:13 -0400
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 "He Doesn't" {Uther} (mf fsolo zoo)

If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise forbidden by law
to read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do
something else.

This material is Copyright, 1996, Uther Pendragon.  All
rights reserved.  I specifically grant the right of downloading
and keeping one electronic copy for your personal reading
so long as this notice is included.  Reposting requires previous
permission.

All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as
public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination
and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly
coincidental.

                  #  #  #  #  #   #  #  #  #  #

                  He Doesn't Love Her Like I Do
                       By Uther Pendragon
                    nogardneprethu@gmail.com


He doesn't love her like I do.

I can still remember when we met.  I was locked up in a space
much too small.  The air from outside brought the smells of urine
and fear and death.  Then someone brought me to her.  I smelled
her for the first time.  She was youth and freshness and clean
air and love.  Even then it was love.  She hugged me to her bony
chest.  I licked her face and she laughed and hugged me tighter.
I was so happy that it wasn't enough just wag my tail.  I wagged
all of me.

"He wiggles.  Oh mother, can I?"

"Well Theresa, do you promise to take care of him?  Feed him
and clean up his messes?"

"Oh yes!"

"I'll take care of the paper work."

"Oh Wiggles!  You're mine."

And I was.  And I am.  And she was mine.

We were both young.  We both made mistakes.  Sometimes she
forgot to feed me.  I was not much help there.  My stomach said
that it was dinner time all the time.  Sometimes we both broke
the rules and she slipped me something from the table.
Sometimes she gave  me a meat treat.  Once or twice she slipped
me something she didn't want.  Then her parents changed the
rules so that I couldn't be near when they were eating.

I never said anything about her mistakes.  She was always
saying things about mine.

"Bad dog!" she would say.  Sometimes it seemed that she would
say it all day.  But I learned.  It really wasn't the only thing
that she said.  It wasn't even the commonest.

"Come on boy!" she would say.  That meant a romp in the yard
or a walk outside.  In the yard it meant a game of fetch,
usually.   Every once in a while it meant a game of tag in the
yard.  Those were the times when she filled a tub with the hose
and got out the soap first.

"Oh Wiggles!" she would say time after time.  And it meant
everything.  It meant that I shouldn't have done it but it was
cute.  It meant that I was learning and that she was proud of me.
It meant that she never could understand the necessity of marking
yourterritory on every walk.  It meant that I *really*
shouldn't lick her face just then, but she would forgive me since
it was a sign of love.  It meant that she was nearly as happy to
see me as I was to see her.  It meant that nobody else understood
her like I did.  It meant that nobody understood her at all.
Every time, it meant that we were two together.

I was growing up through this time.  I learned that the chew
toys that smelled of feet were forbidden.  I learned to predict
my own needs far enough ahead to get a human to open the door.
I learned which people liked to be greeted and which didn't.  It
seemed unfair that they moved me to a dog house at the time I was
becoming less of a bother.  The house was fine, though.  It got
better as I grew into it and it got snugger.  The problem was
that we were separated all night.  Then she went to school and we
were separated most of the day, too.  But she would come home and
I would be at the fence.  She would say "Hi, Wiggles."  Then she
would come in the gate and we would greet each other
properly.

One day, her parents got into the car together.  As always, I
went over to see if I could ride too.  They put the leash on me
and let me in the car.  Then we got out at the vet's.  I smelled
something awful and when I woke up, I hurt beneath my tail.  They
had put an odd shield on my middle so I couldn't reach back and
sniff.  When I got home, she hugged me in front, but she laughed
at the shield too.

She was growing, too.  It took me a bit of time to notice it.
When I used to bump her ankle, I bumped her knee.  It was hard to
figure that she was really a little bigger.

Then she changed in ways that were too obvious to ignore.  She
started to smell a little different.  At first I thought that she
had changed her food.  She sometimes ate spices which would
change her smell for a week.  Then the changes concentrated
between her legs.  The odor there was much more changed than her
sweat.  She seemed healthy enough, so I was more curious than
worried.  What did worry me was her moods.  It is nice to be
hugged.  It isn't nice to have the one you love most crying and
hugging you and smelling sad.

One day, there was a new smell and the now-familiar hugs and
tears before I was sent out for the night.  The next morning, she
smelled different again.  She smelled of five new things and of
old blood.  That scared me.  It was *her* blood, I can tell.
She  patted me absently and then hurried off to school.  I was
frantic by the time she got home.  I raced to the fence.

"Oh Wiggles," she said, "are you glad to see me?"

And then she burst into tears.  After a little fumbling with
the gate while I ran around in circles, she came into the yard.
She dropped her books and hugged me as tight as she ever had in
her life.  I licked at the tears before they even stopped.  They
finally stopped, though.  She laughed, without meaning it.  She
often did when she didn't think that she should have been crying.
She picked up her books.  I took a quick sniff at her crotch.
The odd smells were still there.  She exploded.

"Bad dog!" she barked.  "What a bad, bad, dog!"

She was really angry.  I couldn't remember when she had used
such an angry tone with me.  She closed the gate.  She started
around to the back of the house and I slunk after her.  After
she went in the back door she said, "Well, are you coming?"

I came in.  It wasn't real forgiveness, but it seemed to be
permission to stay.  She hung up her coat and set down her books.
Then she got down on the floor and hugged me again.  "Oh,
Wiggles."  And it felt like she was crying but no tears came out.
Finally, I licked her face anyway.

"Oh Wiggles, you're silly!" It was the first real laugh I had
heard that day.

We sat there for some time.  She had her hand on me but wasn't
really hugging.  Usually when she is like that I wonder, "What's
next?"  That day it seemed this was the best we were going to
get.  After a bit, her mother came home.  That reminded me.  I
gave her crotch a fast sniff.

"Bad dog," they both said, but not very hard.

Her mother ordered me out but I had remembered something.  Her
mother smelled a little the way that she did, old blood and all.
And I remembered that the mother often had smelled that way.
That wasn't too bad, then.

That evening, they went out for dinner.  She brought me back
two bones.  The next days went a little better.

I learned the pattern and it happened again and again.  She
didn't have much time for play with me when she was in school,
but she seemed to have more time for hugs and sitting beside me
holding me.

Summer came and there was more time for everything.  We went
to some classes where there were other dogs.  The idea seemed to
*not* talk to them, which is silly.  She actually taught me
two things:  to stop sniffing crotches, and to lie at her
bedroom door.  It isn't really necessary to sniff at anything,
the odor comes to you.  It doesn't seem polite or honest,
however, to pretend to take no interest in others.  You can bet
that a dog that I walked by without sniffing his or her backside
would feel snubbed.  If humans want to be snubbed, I can learn
to do that.

As for the door, I never saw the use.  But she gave me a treat
for each time I lay down there.  Then it became a whispered "What
a good dog!"  It was always whispered, but it was always meant.
I can tell.  These were odd times.  I was allowed in her bedroom
when she was there and awake.  It wasn't a place where we had
spent much time, though.  She had held me and cried, then we had
gone somewhere else to play.  She held me and cried still.  She
did it more than before.  But she also wrote and dreamed and
changed her clothes five times in a row.  All this time, she had
me lying in front of the door.

Sometimes her parents would come in.  This meant a bump for
me.  There were better places to lie.  But she wanted me there.
Finally, her father put a sort of latch on the door to stop them
from coming in while I lay there.  After her father put it on she
thanked him.  And she said that I thanked him.  That got a laugh
for her and a pat on the head for me.

"And thank you very much, Wiggles," she said.  That came with
a BIG hug.

School started again.  When her friends came over now, they
seldom did any more with me than greet me.  She would sometimes
play with me as much as before.  She would sometimes bring me
into her room and ignore me to read a book or scribble in
another.  She would sometimes bring me into her room to cry into
my fur.

She started to go off in the evening really stinking.  If I
were downwind, I would have to sneeze.  After a few such times,
her mother complained.  She stormed back at her mother, but she
only stank half as bad on later evenings.

She came back from some of these sad.  She came back from some
of these laughing.  She didn't want me too close to the fancy
clothes that she wore at these times, but we would meet at a
wooden chair that sat on the back porch summer and winter.  I
would put my feet up on the chair and she would bend over and
kiss the top of my head.  Sometimes, she would forget the clothes
and hug my head then.

Summer came again.  I noticed that she never hugged me as hard
as before, even when she was laughing hard.  And when she did
hug me, her chest was softer than before.  I didn't mind.  Hugs
were love.  I could tell the love without a tight hug.  She had
more friends over that summer.  Sometimes there was one girl,
sometimes several.  Sometimes there were both girls and boys.  On
those days, she smelled different, and it wasn't only the little
bit of the stink that she put on.

Several times, she had girls over and they took me into her
room.  She would latch the door and have me lie in front of it.
The girls would look at me and laugh.  Then they would trade
books, or they would take off their tops all at the same time
and look at each other.  Then they would stop and go back to the
same giggling and talking that they had done outside.

Sometimes, when we were alone, she would go in the house
without  me.  She came out smelling a little different.  If I
sniffed at  her crotch when that happened she got really angry.
I sniffed at  her fingers, which smelled the same way.  She
laughed.

"Don't tell, Wiggles."  I never did.

School started again.  One weekend, she was playing with me
but acting like she wanted something else.  Her parents were in
and out of the house.  She took me into her room and latched the
door. I lay in front of it, and she changed into a skirt and got
out a book from a drawer.  She was ignoring me, like she
sometimes did in her room.  Then I smelled that different smell.
Her hand was under her skirt and her other hand held the book.
This was too much to ignore.  I followed my nose.

"Wiggles, no!" she whispered.

I sniffed once.  She used her hand to push away my nose and I

licked it.  It tasted interesting.  I licked where her hand had
been.  That tasted even more interesting than it had smelled.
After a few licks, she fell back on the bed and stopped pushing
me away.  I licked her crotch as thoroughly as I had ever licked
her face.  The taste changed suddenly.

"Oh Wiggles!"  she said.

She pushed me away.  But a minute later, she gave me a big
hug.

"Oh Wiggles, you are a nice dog."

After that, she sometimes took me into her room when her
parents weren't home and put a little bouillon powder on
herself.  She didn't need to.  I had learned how happy being
licked there made her.  Her happiness was enough.  Of course, I
never stopped her from getting the meat powder.

She kept going out in the evening with the bad smell.
Sometimes she wore special clothes and sometimes she didn't.
Sometimes she came home happy.  Sometimes she came home tired.
Sometimes she  came home sad.  One of those times she didn't even
speak to me until she was in bedclothes.  Then she went to the
door and called me in.  We went in to her room and she cried and
hugged  me.  I am NOT allowed on her bed.  That night, however,
she pulled down the blankets and slept on the floor.  She held
me all night.  When her father got up that morning, I whined to
him.  I needed to go out *bad*.  He opened the door to her
room and let  me out.  He looked at her on the floor and said,
"That bad, eh?"

After he let me out, he wouldn't let me back in, but he got me
a treat.

"Gooood dog," he said.

Summer came again.  She didn't want much running play, but I
didn't miss it.

We spent a lot of time in her room with the meat powder.  With
her parents gone all day, we weren't so rushed.  I learned to
lick slowly and then fast.  I learned what she liked most.

One good time, she took me in the room but left the door open.
She was reading a book.  I was lying in the doorway enjoying the
coolness.  After a while, she smelled as if we might start the
special way.  She went and got a beef cube.  When we came back,
she latched the door and took off her jeans and panties.  I
watched, but I knew that she didn't want me until she was ready.
She lay on the bed with her legs on the floor and her crotch just
on the edge.  She crushed the cube and spread some where she
wanted me to lick.  I licked up all the flavor from the outside
first.  Then I got between the layers and licked one side until
she was supplying much more flavor than the beef was.  Then I
switched sides and licked the other side.

"Oh Wiggles," she said.

On that side I tried to go deeper into the crannies, but my
tongue didn't really fit.  I would lick the side a few times and
wait for the last specks of meat powder to flow out of her.  I
also went closer to the top.  She spread her legs more and I
started licking the center between the layers.  I took the whole
way from the bottom to the top.  At the top, there were some
interesting folds and crannies.  I licked all over them.  She
stiffened and her smell changed in the special way.

"Oh Lord Roland,"  she sighed.

She moaned a few times and then she pushed me away.  I went
and  lay down and watched her.  I learned more from my nose,
though.   She lay there a long time and then she squeezed the
cube again.   She took longer spreading the material this time,
and spread it  more widely.

I started by licking everything off the sides of her legs.  As
I  went higher, she spread her legs wider.  When I finally licked
within the folds, she moaned.  The special smell came much sooner
and she spread her legs wider.  I kept licking.

"Oh Billy!" she cried out.  She said it several times, each
time  louder.

I licked and she moaned.  She'd managed to place one crumb in
a  tight cranny just at the top of those folds.  It took me a
while  but I got it all.  I sat up and looked at her face.  I
wondered  if she wanted me to go on.  She didn't look at me at
all.  So I  went and lay down.

Later, she tossed me the rest of the cube.  I caught it in
midair.  I could have got it from where she had placed it while
she was lying there, but I'm a good dog.

Much later, I heard her father come in the house.  I went and
lay  in the doorway.  She looked at me, but didn't do anything.
When  she heard his voice, she suddenly got up and pulled her
panties  and jeans on.  He rattled the door.  I wagged my tail
against it.

"Watch out for Wiggles," she said.

When all the greetings were done, she took me for a walk along
the sidewalk.  This time, she didn't complain about the number of
trees that I visited.

"You are one SMART dog!" she said.  I knew that.

She didn't keep quiet, any more.  She would moan, and talk to
me.   We would finish and lie on the bed (her) and the floor
(me).   Then, sometimes, we would start over.  She smelled happy
as well  as the special smells.

If everybody had left us alone, we would both have been happy.
But they didn't.  Girls came over.  She went away.  Girls and
boys came over.  Sometimes boys came over.  Sometimes one boy
came and she left with him.  Toward the end of the summer, she
spent a lot of time with her father in the car.  Every evening.
Every day when he was home.  Then, just before school began, she
started going off in the car alone.

School began.  We had less time alone.  We used it when we
could get it.  She didn't always get the meat powder, but that
was all right.  She went silent again during those times.

Friends came on evenings.  She would stink for those times,
there would be both boys and girls, and they would play loud
music.  Nobody paid me the least attention, even the ones who
were nice to me during the day.  When it started to get warm
again, some people would come out in the yard from inside.  At
first, I thought that they had come to play.  Instead, they
ignored me more than ever, and kept to themselves two-by-
two.

Once, as a group was leaving, I was hanging around and getting
an occasional pat.  She was still inside, but I could almost
smell her.  Then I did smell her, on the hand of one of the boys
who was leaving.  I growled.  She came out then.

"Wiggles!" she said, "Stop it.  Gary is a *friend*!"  He
was not!  But I stopped growling.

That spring, she started getting home from school just a
little before her parents got home.  We had less time together.
I smelled Gary on her a lot.  Then she came home and hugged me
and cried.  She smelled of Gary all over.  When her parents got
home, she stopped crying but she still smelled sad.  After that
she came right home and hugged me a lot.  These weren't happy
hugs, though.  She was sad most of the time.  If I ever get
close to Gary again, I'm going to bite him.

When summer came, she played with me more.  Then she got a car
of her own.  She took me for a few drives, but mostly she went
off alone.  Sometimes, she came back smelling of one boy or
another.   One of them, I hadn't smelled before.  Soon that was
the commonest smell that she brought back from the car
trips.

One day, when her parents were home, a strange car drove into
our driveway.  I went out to warn it off and to welcome any
human who might get out.  The boy who got out was the one whose
smell she wore so often.

"Billy,"  she greeted him.  Then said, "Billy, this is
Wiggles.  Wiggles, sniff Billy."

I already had, but I did it again.  Then they went into the
house for a while.  When she came out, she gave me a pat and
climbed in the car.  They drove away.

When she came home, it was dark, and the car only stopped long
enough to let her out.  I greeted her.  I could smell blood.
Whatever the rules, I had to sniff her crotch.  She was bleeding
there, not old blood but fresh, still flowing.  I could smell
that Billy, too, lots of him.

"Oh Wiggles," she said, "don't tell.  This is horrible enough
as it is."

Then she hugged me hard and cried.  She wiped her face and
slipped into the house very quietly.  I didn't tell.  I never
smelled Billy again.

For a while there, she played with me almost every day.  She
went out driving much less.  For days, she would hug me when her
parents were out and sometimes cry.  One day, the old-blood smell
came again.  She came outdoors laughing.  We played that day like
we hadn't in years, and I was the one who tired first.

She went driving more after that, but she still had time for
me.  Sometimes we played in the yard.  Sometimes we went into
her room  with the bouillon cubes.  After the tear healed, she
didn't smell any different from the wound.  She smelled of one
boy or another sometimes, but not of Billy.

School started again.  She went off almost every day.
Sometimes she came home long before her parents, sometimes just
before them, a few times much later than they did.  A few times
she came in smelling of some boy.  Then, more and more, she was
smelling of Dave, a boy I had met.  She would go out in the
evening smelling bad again.  This year, she always came back
with Dave.  He would walk her to the door speak for a minute,
kiss her, and go back to his car.

She would hug me when she had time.  She smelled happy those
times and a little bit scared.  How can you be both?  She was.
When she came back from smelling bad in the evening, she was
never crying.

One day in the late spring, she went off to school and came
back almost before I could miss her.  Dave was with her.  She
called me.  We all went in the house by the back way.  She got
some rope.  In her room, she tied the rope to my collar by a
complicated knot.  She held out her hand to Dave and he gave her
some keys.  She put them under my collar.  She closed and latched
the door and I moved in front of it.

"Stay boy," she said.  I lay down in the usual place.

"If I tell my father," she said to Dave, "He'll try to beat
you up, and maybe fail.  If I tell my mother, she'll call yours
and try to make trouble in your family.

"But if you hurt me, my *dog* will *kill* you."

Now she had the idea.  I sat up and smiled at them.  Well, I
kept my teeth together and my lips apart.

"All I have to do is pull this rope, and he's free."

"C'mon, Theresa," said Dave, "I wouldn't hurt you for the
world."

"Then we're all perfectly safe aren't we?"

She started to unbutton her blouse.  Dave stopped her.

"It won't hurt, but it won't be much good either, that way.
Let's do what we always do, just not stop."

She didn't smell happy.  She smelled angry and scared.  But
she stopped and he kissed her.  They did that a lot, and he put
his hands all over her.  *I* wasn't happy with that, but
she started to smell happier and less angry.  She put her hands
on his back.

Then he turned her around and kissed her neck as he unbuttoned
her blouse.  He reached under the blouse and unsnapped her bra.
Then he held her, while kissing the side of her face and her ear
and her neck.  His hands were always on her breasts, however.

She started to smell happy and the anger smell was getting
old.  Then she smelled the way she did before she wanted me to
lick her.  She moved out of his arms quickly.  I wondered if she
were going to come over for me to lick her.  She never had when
we weren't alone.

Instead, Dave kissed her mouth again.  Then he kissed her
breasts and passed his hands all over her.  Now I knew how she
came to smell of him, even in the crotch.  After he'd done this
for some time, she pulled his mouth back to hers.  She held him
to her by his shoulder and the back of his head.

Then they stepped apart.  She took off the rest of her clothes
except her panties.  Dave took off his clothes, but she finished
first.  They stood looking at each other.  She started to smell
afraid again.

"Will it hurt?"

"We'll see that it doesn't."  He went back to his clothes and
took out something small.

She lay down on the bed and he lay down beside her.  He put
his hands all over her and his mouth on hers.  Then he kissed
all over her body.  Most of the time, it was on her breasts.
She lifted herself to let him pull off her panties.  She still
smelled afraid.  The heaviest smells, though, were the smells
that came before I licked her and during my licking.  I looked up
to see if she wanted me, but she didn't.

He put his mouth back on her breast, but his hand was in her
crotch.  I stayed sitting up and could see what was happening.  I
could smell her special "lick" smells very strongly now.

"Does that hurt?" Dave asked.

"Not hurt, something ..."

"Disturbing, that's all right.  If my fingers don't hurt you,
then I won't."

He kissed her face again and she pulled him to her again.  My
licking could get those smells faster, but he was getting them.
He was getting *my* hug, too.  But she wanted this.

After a while, I could smell that she was close to the moaning
stage.  There is a special scent right before.  At this point,
Dave stopped.  I hoped that she would ask me next time.  I would
never stop just then.

Dave fumbled with something at the side of the bed, and then I
could smell tires.  He climbed on top of her and I bristled.  But
she didn't mind.  She spread her legs to give him more space.  He
kissed each of her breasts for a very short time.  Then he lay
down on top of her.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine."

Then they started tussling.  I know the difference between
tussling and hurting.  I wasn't scared or angry for her.  I did
want to join in, but I was tied up.

Then he grunted and moved much faster.  Then she moaned in her
special way.

Shortly after that they stopped moving.  He lay on top of her
and they both panted as if it were very hot.  It wasn't.

Finally, he got off her.  I could smell a lot of her smell of
after-being-licked.  It was all mixed in with the tire.  They lay
side by side.  He put his hands on her like before.  He kissed
her like before.  But he moved slowly.  Lots of times, he hardly
moved.

"You go back to school," she finally said.

"And you?"

"If we both cut the same half day, the talk will be much
worse.   Do you want to use the shower?"

"I'll do a sponge bath, can you dump a washcloth without it
being noticed?  I do love you.  Does this change anything?"

"It changes everything.  I don't know how yet.  I have to
think."

They talked more.  He washed.  She got me a treat.  They
talked more.  They kissed again.  He left.  She let me out.
When she called me back, she smelled new-washed.  She hugged me
and gave me another treat.  She smelled happy but she cried
too.

Dave came over two days after that.  They talked for a long
time, in the yard.  She called me over and hugged me real
tight.

"Wiggles, Dave is a *good* friend."  I wagged my tail and
Dave patted me.  For that hug, I'd have wagged my tail to a
squirrel.

She would come home late from school smelling of Dave.  Dave
came right after school and before her parents came home a few
times, too.  They would go in the house and he would give me a
treat when he came out.

Once she sneaked me into her room after dark.  There was a
scratching on the screen at her window.  She opened the window
and screen and it was Dave.  He came in the window.  They kissed
for a minute.  She helped me out the window.  They pulled the
screen down but not the window.  I lay down outside the window.
There were rustling sounds.  I smelled her excitement, and then
the tire.  He was smelling very excited too, if that matters.

I looked in through the screen.  She was lying on her back.
He was on top of her and between her legs.  She was hugging him
to her, though, not pushing him off.  He moved back and forth.
The bed moved at the same time.  Her legs rose a tiny bit with
each motion.  The scent of her excitement grew strong.  She
slammed her legs back down on the bed.  She was trying to throw
him off.  I got ready to go through the screen to protect her,
but her arms were still holding him to her.

She grabbed a pillow and stuffed the pillow case in her mouth.
But I heard her moans through it.  He was thrashing and grunting.
Then they lay quiet.  She hugged him.  I lay back down.  Later he
came out the window and she shut it tight.  He had a treat for
me.

Summer came.  She was busy, but there was still some time for
me.  There was *plenty* of time for Dave.  I noticed
another new smell.  It was centered at her crotch, and she got
angry when I sniffed.

One morning, she came out right after breakfast.  She threw my
frisbee and I caught it.  She was trying to take it from me when
she suddenly looked sick.  She ran into the house and I could
hear retching noises.  I waited by the door and listened.  She
cried and her mother made soothing sounds.  Then everybody was
shouting.  Then she was crying and I couldn't get to her.

She came out that evening and hugged me and cried.  It was
like  old times, but not like good times.

"Oh Wiggles," she said.  It meant that nobody understood her
at all.

The next day, Dave came over.  She kissed him, but he just
stood there.  They went in the house and talked with her
parents.  A long time later, they came out in the yard.  She
barely noticed me.  She was talking to Dave.

"I am going to college," he said.  "It means my whole
future."

"Do you think I wasn't going to college?  I had better grades
than you!  But *this* is the future too."

"I know, but it isn't fair.  Dammit Theresa, why did you have
to ..."

"Me!  Me?  Who was it who knew everything?  Who was it who had
the birth control?  I didn't pester you to start.  It was all
your doing until there is a problem.  Now it's my fault."

"Don't shout, the neighbors..."

"Will be seeing my waist soon enough."

"Not if you come to your senses.  This is not fun, but our
entire future is at stake."

"I.  Will.  Not!  Kill my baby.  It's your baby too.  You want
to kill your own child."

"It's hardly a child yet."

He sounded threatening, and I got between them and growled.
They both looked at me.

"That's the difference between a dog and a lover," she said.
"Dogs are faithful.  I wish I had let him protect me from you
when he wanted to."

"That's not fair.  You wanted it too."

"I wanted it and I was afraid of it.  You had all the answers.
You had birth control which couldn't fail.  You would look after
me if it did.  You loved me.  Until you got what you wanted."

"Oh Theresa."

He opened his arms and stepped toward her.  He wasn't really
being threatening.  I was.  He stopped.

"Oh Wiggles," she said.  It was almost a giggle.  Then she
walked around me into his arms.  They kissed.

"I do love you," he said.  "I just....  We'll work it
out."

After a few minutes, they went back inside.

I saw him again the next evening, with two older people.  From
then on, he was there much of the time.  There was a period when
she didn't smell of him at any time.  Then, she began coming back
smelling of him again.

That whole period, she would come out to the yard and hug me
and cry, or hug me and be happy.  Sometimes she would do both
without getting up.

The house had more visitors at this time than ever before.
Then there was a huge crowd of visitors at one time.  She drove
away with Dave.  She didn't come back.

It was the worst time of my life.

Finally, she was back.  I greeted her and she gave me a big
hug.  But she was busy that day and gone again that evening.

I didn't know what to think for the next few days, but then
her father offered me a ride in the car.  I always liked those.
This was the best possible ride, though.  It was a ride to
her.

I went up some stairs with her.  There were three rooms there,
rather small.  But she was there and had been there, her smell
was all over.  Dave's smell was all over, too.

We have some nice times.  She is here all day, and I don't get
put out in the yard away from her.  But not all of the times are
nice.  There is no yard to play in, either.  She has grown fat
and doesn't bend down like she used to.  A hug these days is more
like one arm over me as she sits in a chair.  But she means a
hug.

I've been here a long time and it is often wet when I go for
my walks.  When it is raining, even she wants me to hurry up.
Sometimes Dave takes me, and he is always impatient.  I don't
mind when he is angry with me.  But it hurts her when he is angry
with her.  He often is.

Just this morning he barked at her.  She barked back and he
tore out smelling angry.  She smelled angry too, but mostly
frightened.  And then she cried.  I went over to comfort her, but
I'm not that much comfort anymore.

Now he is home again.  They are speaking quietly, but I can
still smell the anger.  I can smell something else too.  I sniff
his crotch.

"Oh Wiggles.  Bad dog!" she says.

I smelled something from his crotch however.  It is a woman
that I have never met.  And a little bit of the tire.

He doesn't love her like I do.


     The end
     He Doesn't Love Her Like I Do
     Uther Pendragon
     nogardneprethu@gmail.com
     August 1996
     July 1997
     2002/02/15
     2004/04/08
     2010/06/01
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