In spite of 2 long (and hot) walkies and a bath, Bon Jovi was still wound up last night. Lucky for me…he found his frog…or should we say…his lover. He actually went to the door of the room the frog was in and did his smoke-detector-like bark until Tim opened the door…at which point he dashed in, grabbed the frog, and trotted back to the living room to commence his business.
A few times throughout the evening I noticed he was either busy with the frog or sprawled out on top of it…panting in exhaustion. I asked if he needed a drink…a cigarette maybe…but he seemed happy to just share time with is furry green friend. Eventually we decided it was time for one last trip out to tee tee before bedtime. I noticed something weird when I picked him up to carry him to his personal outdoor toilet…but thought nothing of it.
Then…as I put him on the bed…I felt it again…I still wasn’t sure what it was…it felt like a lump on his belly…did he get bit by something? Was he swollen? Was it a tumor? Ummm. No. He had a boner. I rushed him in to Tim to show him what I had found (all while my little Jon Bon Jovi was completely oblivious to my upset…he was just looking around as if to say “hey, I thought we were going to bed…where we going now?). Tim was no help…responding with… “that’s my big boy”… followed by (in that sing-song voice many people unconsciously use with a baby) “does my big boy have a boner?”
Ew.
So I checked it a few more times and realized this sucker wasn’t going ANYWHERE. I had no idea who to call about a doggy boner…but I knew the Emergency Vet in Shreveport could usually answer questions…so I dialed the number. I kinda saw it coming while it was ringing…and then it happened as the nice woman answered the phone…I realized I had absolutely no idea how to ask what I needed to ask.
I prefaced with “I have a 9 month old dog who was just fixed a few weeks ago and he’s been playing with a big stuffed frog all night.” She accepted this information with a uh-huh (and I’m pretty sure she was nodding her head) so I continued. “Okay, so like you know the Viagra commercials right?” (viiiiva Viagra…). Thankfully she knew the one. “Okay, so the commercial says if one who has taken this medication was to have an erection lasting more than 4 hours should see his doctor right?” Again I got the uh-huh but I can actually hear her face twisting into a knot. “I mean I don’t get it because I wouldn’t think a doctor would be high on the list…maybe a hooker…but I can’t see a guy sitting around for hours in the emergency room, explaining this to a million nurses, waiting on an actual doctor…all while wasting a boner.” She started to chuckle…I just figured I may as well help her along…after all…if we take it too seriously…it would be embarrassing.
“So my husband is impressed with his stamina…but I’m a little concerned…is a four-hour boner an issue for a dog?” That did it…I could hear her stuffing it back…but I knew that upon hanging up the phone…she was going to need dry pants.
She very nicely explained the dangers of the predicament (in that very elevated tone of voice you use when you are fighting back the gut busting shrieks of laughter). Apparently, if it says “out” too long, it can dry out and he could “lose it.” I was like “lose it like it will fall off?” No…she explained if it dried out it could do damage and need to be removed. She suggested I put something on it and put him in a dark, quiet place to “calm down” and check him in an hour or so.
So I hang up the phone and report my findings to Tim. His mouth drops open in horror as he shrieks “LOSE IT????” as if we were talking about his tool. “What do you mean lose it? I don’t want my big boy to lose it! Oh my God what do we do?”
I, being the calm mother, started pilfering through my bathroom cabinet in search of some lube for my dog. I had some Vaseline…but it was Chamomile and Lavender scented (works great on tired feet). He immediately said it would probably work…but I had the sense to read the label… “if ingested…seek emergency care and contact poison control” I read aloud. Ok, so if we put this on his wanker…it is very possible we will be headed to the vet with a poisoned, horny, yet lovely smelling dog.
I opted for some wanker medicine I had gotten a few weeks ago for a mild “wanker infection.” It had similar properties to lube and it had to be safe to ingest or it wouldn’t be for doggy wankers. Tim rolled him over and rubbed his belly so I could administer the treatment. It did NOT help any when he kept saying (in his Jovi voice…as we frequently speak for our dogs) “yeah…lube me up mommy.” I quickly spread the cream around with a Q-tip and plopped him on the bed for an hour of dark, quiet, and Desperate Housewives.
After the hour was up, I rolled my sleeping boy over for observation. To my dismay…there it was…staring back at me as if to say “hi there!” Tim had the idea to give him a warm bath…I opted to call the woman back. It didn’t take much to remind her who I was (I was sure she had gotten several calls since our last). I just said, “okay, so I called a bit ago about my porn star…” She was concerned the problem had not yet alleviated itself and somehow got on the subject of a pot-belly pig she once had that would hump random stuffed animals. Now as funny as this was…and it was funny…I was worried about the whole “lose it” thing. She was just about to help me come up with a plan (which I’m sure would have involved me staying up all night to lube my dog’s tool) when Tim came out the backdoor…holding a wet pup…and almost screaming… “It’s in!!”
I relayed this to the nice woman, who was relieved, and thanked her for her help. It wasn’t all the way fixed, but it was indeed a huge improvement.
So what does this teach all of us?
1. 4 hour boners are bad news for human and canine
2. Vaseline is not for eating
3. Tim can indeed fix anything
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