He was shocked and bewildered and lost. Our play had hit something at the core of him and he looked stricken, chest heaving, face screwed up, on the edge of tears. I cradled him, rocking him gently, kissing, crooning to him.

“It’s ok baby, it’s ok,” I stroked his face.

He looked up at me, a little boy, scared and bewildered.

“Please hurt me…” he asked in a small voice, “please…?”

I understood at once that he was asking me to bring him back from it, to ground him, to give him something solid to hang onto. I wanted to … Continue Reading

Later, we watch a movie, puppy is allowed on the bed, snuggled beside me.

I make some comment about what’s on screen to him, he answers me, laughing. It takes us both a few seconds to realise that he has spoken.

I raise my eyebrows at him. Comically, his wrapped paws fly to cover his mouth, his eyes widen, a look of shock and horror frozen on his face.

“Can puppies talk?!” I demand.

He shakes his head, his hands still over his mouth, his pretty eyes staring at me in a parody of fear, like a cartoon character. I … Continue Reading

Sometimes play just… well, it just doesn’t work.

I tried puppy play, I thought he would be sweet as a puppy… fun and playful, insistent and helpless.

He was not to rise from all fours, he was not to speak. He could make sounds, he could try to indicate to me if he wanted things. He was to act like a puppy.

He looked cute and a little confused as he sank to the floor.

I put a collar and lead on him, led him into the bathroom.

I had him on all fours in the tub, leash tied to … Continue Reading

I want very much to tell you stories and lovely things and send you snipped locks of hair and have you give me pieces of skin and bone and fix it all with you here so that we can fight and make up like we are a regular Joe and Mary (that’s you, by the way, Mary), and make you stand naked in the corner and write penance with your tongue on the wall and have you kneeling and pretty and spanked and nipped and petted and slapped and kisses baby.