Little Whacker

Good dental health is important for everyone: animals as well as humans. That's why I brush our dogs' teeth. Doesn't everyone? Every evening after dinner, I put a dab of poultry-flavoured toothpaste, made especially for dogs, onto their human baby-sized toothbrushes.

Fluffy is well used to the routine and willingly hops up onto the back of an upholstered chair, where he is at just the right height for me to attend to his pearly whites. Fang, on the other hand, still resists the treatment, even though it has been a regular nightly routine since the day he came to live with us.

So Ron has to hold Fang in his arms, gently but firmly, while I struggle to get the brush inside that tiny mouth. Fang does all he can to prevent me - short of biting, that is - even though he knows I'll win in the end. One of the things he does is stretch out his long front legs and press his claws firmly into my breasts in an attempt to keep me away.

"Titty whacker," Ron calls him. I laugh as I brush, unable to back away from the paws assaulting my breasts until I have finished. When the brushing is over, Fang is released onto the floor, and he scampers over to the treat jar to be rewarded for putting up with my treatment again. I usually need to adjust my top somewhat before I dispense biscuits.

I've mentioned before that our dogs are butt men, just like their dad. Maybe Fang is branching out now.