Tiamo was a flirt – a big flirt! She’d see a handsome male Berner and the Paris Hilton head-tilt and the come-hither look would appear. Tail a-swishing, her prance became more pronounced and a certain gleam in eye would materialize each and every time a big studly cutie-paw-tootie was in the vicinity.
The first time I noticed her flirting she was around 9 months old. I’d been walking Tiamo around the loop when another Berner owner drove by, stopping to talk shop as fellow BMD owners like to do. He had his boy with him and let him out of the car to introduce the two. Shubert was a 4-year-old male rehab dog for the elderly, fit with a deep chest, massive paws and weighing a hefty 125 lbs., he was a poster child for Berner perfection. Tiamo immediately took a shine to him, one look from Shubert and she fell in love. She puffed out her chest, lifted up her tail and strutted over like a two-bit hooker on lower 4th Street showing off her wares. Tiamo lay as close to Shubert as possible, rubbing shoulders, tail flicking, paws touching his, her head tilting. As we wrapped up our conversation, Shubert loaded up into the car, ready to go – Tiamo hopped in right behind him, scooting over to lean up against him. She’d found herself a man and wasn’t going to let him go. It took me ten minutes to con/drag her out of the vehicle.
Never faithful for long, Tiamo moved on to greener pastures. Her next love affair was with Gus, a Bernese from back east. Gus was the kind of guy that tightened the kink in her tail. One glance and Tiamo turned into a lit’le slut-puppy. A cougar worth her salt, Tiamo liked her men young and Gus was younger by 10 months. His swagger down pat, his moves slick as silk, Gus was a ladies man, a giglio, a smooth operator and had all the ladies panting. Tiamo had met her match – she was one of many in a long line of lusting females. That dog was handsome plus! Sparks ignited when the two were together, resulting in 8 puppies 60+ days later. Yep, Gus fathered her beautiful children. And, then left her. A single mother, raising 8 kids alone, you would think Tiamo would learn her lesson. Eleven months later, Tiamo was up to her old philandering ways…..
A couple of times a year, we bring the girls into the groomers’ for a wash, cut and curl. We clip their bellies and their forearm feathers to keep the stickers and cockleburs to a minimum and it helps them stay cool in the hot summer months. Tiamo, particularly, did not like the process, protesting immediately upon entering the door to the groomers’. Her front paws put on the breaks, denying all forward movement into the establishment. She put her back paws in full reverse, madly scrambling to dodge her fate. She ignored all commands to stop acting like a brat and to behave, seeking only escape. She didn’t so much mind the bath as she did the clippers. She hated the clippers. And she abhorred the colorful little bandana souvenir they tied around her neck at the end of the foray, trying to bite it off on the way home. It got so bad, that we started bringing her in through the back door to minimize the damage to the store’s displays in the front – until the day she saw Owen.
Owen was a local male Berner, masculine and manly, he easily tipped the scales at 135 lbs. That boy was one handsome dude and he ooooooozed sex. Owen was already in the wash rack when I arrived with Tiamo at the back door, hoping upon hope she wouldn’t put up too much of a fuss as we entered. One sniff and the game was up – Tiamo knew she had been duped into getting bathed and clipped. A full-on Tiamo tantrum erupted. She wasn’t going anywhere but back home. Tiamo changed delaying tactics and dropped to the tiled floor, rolling over on her back, four paws in the air, she was dead weight, couldn’t be picked up, dragged, moved or maneuvered. And then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Owen. Her ears twitched, her eyes glowed with that familiar glint, drool droplets trickled from her lips, her tail curled into a constricted ringlet, it only took one sultry look for Tiamo to go ga-ga over him. Miraculously, she spun upright, gave a little bitch shake, pulled her shoulders back, pushed her barreled chest out and pranced right up the ramp to her wash tub. With a flick of her tail, Tiamo had a new man. Unapologetic, Tiamo gave me the signal to leave, she had this handled. I quickly turned to leave. Exiting out the door, I peeked back at the two love-birds. Tiamo had jumped the tub’s railing and was skinny-dipping with Owen. I kept walking.
Thank gawd she’s been spayed.