The Soul Puppy gets hormonal

The soul puppy hasn’t been quite so, well, soulful of late. He’s had other things on his mind. I suppose you could say he’s hit puberty with a bang (to coin a phrase) and anything that moves is fair game. He’s been humping the cushions, humping soft toys, humping any stray leg that stays still long enough. He humped the postman, humped the delivery guy and humped the strange man who appeared at the back door trying to sell timeshares in Bulgaria.
‘You want to get him done,’ said the strange man, shaking a leg with a look of deep disapproval. ‘That’s not right, that isn’t.’
I stifled the urge to say that pitching up on my doorstep in the dark waving brochures of unbuilt apartment blocks wasn’t quite right either. Instead I detached the SP and shut the door.
Needless to say, he didn’t try it on with Abso. Even with rampaging hormones and (I should add) unfeasibly large testicles for such a small dog, he had some sense. Still, he was the Soul Puppy no more – he was officially the Shag Puppy and it was getting a bit irritating.
Then some friends from London came to stay with their venerable 11-year old dog, Captain. Captain is a dog of indeterminate breed and unsteady self-esteem. ‘If he thinks another dog is more attractive than him, he’ll ignore it,’ said Pete. ‘It’s true,’ said Liz, nodding sagely.
Poor Captain. Ignoring really wasn’t ever a viable option. The SP launched himself upon him and a weekend of endless dry humping ensued. On...

and on....

and on....

and on.

The whiff of pheromones must have been so strong that, in the end, even Asbo got sucked in (no, honestly, no literal sucking involved).

‘It’s like watching endless gay dog porn movies,’ said Liz. Poor Captain. The floor was littered with clumps of his hair. He had a slightly dazed look. If he’d ever thought he was unattractive, that thought had been well and truly trounced.
But, it was agreed, something Had To Be Done. A quick call to the vet and his fate was sealed.

‘Nooo,’ wailed my brother down the phone. ‘You can’t do that. Poor puppy.’ What is it with men and dogs’ testicles? Transference?
‘At least get him some neuticles.’
Some whaticles? Seems you can get testicular implants for dogs. Honestly. Well, maybe in America, maybe even in London, but I could just imagine the look on our vet’s face if we even suggested it.
Anyhow, the deed is done. The SP (hopefully restored to Soul) is feeling somewhat sorry for himself and requires extra cuddles and treats. Only time will tell if it’s done the trick. Meanwhile Captain is safely back home, still somewhat traumatised by his Exmoor experience. We hear he may be undergoing counselling.

PS
IMPORTANT BEGGING BIT
As you know, life is tough at the Bonkers House right now and you can do your bit by taking two minutes to help me out. If you click at the link at the end of this post it will take you through to the Next site (full of rather nice things actually). You won’t have to sign up; you don’t have to buy anything; you won’t be added to mailing lists – but the more clicks I get, the more chance I have of getting some vouchers (sadly they don’t do Next neuticles). So please, please click the link.
Btw, if you’re reading this on Facebook, I’d really appreciate it if you could bear to go to my main blog site (http://exmoorjane.blogspot.com/) and click from there (as clicks from Facebook don’t count).

Here’s the LINK.