DOG POV
BITCH , PLEASE
The Life Of Mae , A Boykin From Mobile
Hello , my name is Mae . Actually , my Christian name is the Marvelous Maesel . I am not overly devout though . The aforementioned allowed , my actions often generate the mention of The Almighty , albeit preceded by a profanity or two from my tubby human . My name comes from a series that the fatso was really into when I first graced his life . The meaty one also calls me Devil Dog , Hell Hound , and other names . The increasingly rounded manservant is not off the mark in his assessment . I respond to all of these monikers , and more often than not with a resting bitch face on my cocked head . This lady is singular . Picture , if you will , a canine version of Princess Margaret , Karen Walker , and Mae West — and you have me ! In the interest of full disclosure , while I am very human-like , I am , in actuality , a six-and-a-half-year-old Boykin Spaniel .
My manservant is a historian by education and inclination . Something must have rubbed off from that bitch , because I am now going to better acquaint you with my wonderful self by way of a mini-memoir of my early life . Buckle up , cupcakes ! I was born on January 19th in the year of our Lord 2018 on landed establishment in the Carolina Lowcountry . South Carolina is the motherland of my breed , you know . After being robbed from my birth mother , I was presented to a young couple by the high-born tribe that bred me . The young couple called me Maci Rae . . . I know . . . Sweet Baby Jesus , Mary , Joseph , the ox , and a few asses . The husband of the duo who were gifted the marvelous , then mini , me worked in the Coast Guard . He did odd jobs for the genteel tribe that raised my mama . When said Coast Guard dude received a promotion , one which required a move to Mississippi , the gentry family presented me , the saucy runt of my litter , to him as a token of their affection . My ass was sent to the Deep South with the Guardsman . His wife and kiddos were to follow . Things did not go according to his plan or mine .
God bless Mississippi is all I can say . Instead of some pillared pile in Natchez or a pretty place in Pass Christian , that Guardsman moved my little brown ass to a trailer ! To his credit , he was looking for a more permanent home for his family . I still feel sorry for the bloke . His family as he knew and envisioned it changed after our move to the Deep South . In a manner equivalent to a digital version of Berger , Carrie , and the Post-it note , wifey broke up with the Guardsman via a text . Ouch ! That is just cold . He got the kids and I got the boot . I hold no grudge as he had bigger fish to fry , and I am a handful . Luckily , my then malnourished and mangy self was rescued by a lady from Mobile , Alabama , who runs a program for saving canines in bad circumstances such as I found myself in my puppydom . The lady placed me in the home of a lovely foster family over the bay in Daphne . The couple had a Labrador Retriever and some other dog as well as three young sons . Shortly after my placement with my temporary family , who got me back to health , the rescue lady made outreach to my human .
The human grew up with spaniels , albeit those bastards were American Cocker Spaniels . I still hear about his sister ’ s childhood dog , Josh . That dog was referred to as an “ appetite with fur around it .” A full-figured state must run in my human ’ s side . The human mainly references his favorite childhood dog , a gorgeous blonde Cocker named
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