In Which I Rant About Bitches' Rights

I last wrote here about the bi-weekly gatherings of Cavaliers at a nearby dog park, and the strenuous attentions that Bisou has steadily received from the "ruby humper" since her earliest infancy. Unlike another owner of a Cavalier bitch--who fled from the first play session crying "rape!"--I have been reasonably good humored about the goings on. Bisou doesn't seem cowed by the persistent male, and she rather enjoys running from him. Needless to say, she has not yet come into her first heat. The minute she does, she will go into dog "purdah" for the duration. Halfway between her first and second heats, when the hormones have done her growing body all the good they're supposed to, I will have her spayed.

Today I received an e-mail from the organizer of the Cavalier gathering diplomatically informing me that the owner of the "r. h." has suggested that there be a male-only gathering from 10 to 10:30 a.m., to give the boys a chance to play without being hampered by tempting bitches, after which time the bitches will be allowed to join the group.

Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to become embroiled in a feminist dispute on behalf of my bitch, but here I am. This may sound weird, but the first thing that came to my mind after reading the e-mail was my high-school religion teachers, who were forever warning us girls against becoming an "occasion of sin" for our pimply male classmates. Then I thought of the blame-the-victim prejudice that let so many rapists go free. Then I remembered how in Spain women were not allowed in church unless their head was covered and their sleeves reached to their elbows, lest they inflame male worshipers. From there it was but a step to the veil and the chador....It's long been my opinion that these are only means for men to reassure themselves of their virility (as in "I have so much testosterone that if I see so much as a woman's little finger I may lose control") and have little to do with real women at all.

But we're talking about dogs here. And what I'm wondering is, why not have a special "bitches only" play time, where the girls can romp unimpeded by male lusts? I was always a proponent of women's colleges during my higher ed career. I never dreamed that I would become a "bitches' playground" advocate. But I am. It's only fair. Especially since spaying Bisou will not necessarily stop the obsessive behavior of an unneutered male.

My task now is to find some way of communicating the essence of this without upsetting the humans involved--they are genuinely nice people whom I would not for the world offend. Help!

Oh, and by the way, why is "bitch" an insult in the English language?

Dog Park Follies

Took Bisou to the local dog park this morning (in Vermont, that means a 45 minute drive, no traffic, gorgeous landscape). Every two weeks, from 10:30 to noon, it's Cavalier Play Group. In Vermont, that means five people and nine dogs, not all a the same time.

When Bisou and I arrived there were five males there--four Rubies, one Tri-Color--all neutered except for one. That particular one, a feisty Ruby, is waiting for the breeder to determine whether he has show potential, in which case he will get to keep his gonads.

In which case, god help us. Because that particular Ruby has been obsessed with Bisou from the minute he first set eyes on her. She was only four months old the first time we went to the park, and puberty not even in the horizon. But the minute I let her in the gate, he was on her like...like...like the Energizer Bunny on a rampage? Like some obscene windup toy? Like the ideal male lead in a porno film?

Now she is six months old, and his lust has reached new heights. This morning he and Bisou wandered over the park like a weird sort of dog tandem, one in front, pulling with the forelegs (Bisou) and one behind, pushing and shoving and, you know, humping.

I was determined to be polite and not over-protective. I know that bitches have their ways of keeping inopportune suitors at bay. But those must be more experienced bitches. All Bisou did was run, and, when caught, submit--ears back, eyes round--then run again, and submit once more. A couple of times I heard her growl, but it didn't have any effect. She didn't seem cowed or hurt in anyway, so I decided to let Nature take its course.

Which it did, over and over and over again. The male's owner was embarrassed and apologetic and would periodically call his dog and reason with him. At one point the dog, unhappy at being distracted from Bisou, grabbed his owner by the sleeve, his eyes wide, growling and tugging with all his strength. I was aghast. I've never seen such raw dog-to-owner aggression live before. If this had been a bigger dog (Wolfie, say) the owner's arm would have been torn off.

But this was a small dog, a lovely long-haired, big-eyed sweet-looking lap dog, so his owner cooed to him, and entreated him to sit (which the dog laughed at), and petted him until he was no longer snarling, and let him go. Whereupon the dog, feeling he had succeeded in teaching his owner a lesson, went back to Bisou.

Eventually three of Bisou's littermates showed up, and the older dogs went home, and the puppies had a good old pre-pubertal romp. We three puppy owners promised not to hold it against each other when the hormonal tides sweep in and turn our little darlings into sex-obsessed maniacs for whom all idea of play is a thing of the past.