ADRIENNE'S HIV BLOG – Hivine's Weblog

HIVINE is written by HIV positive women but still with a sense of humour

Do it Like a Dude

Still having trouble coming up with the right name for new puppy Lady Doodle – Doody, Dood or Dude sounds a bit too masculine don’t you think? The dog trainers at doggy boot camp obviously thought so too because they kept thinking she was a boy, though this was mostly down to her unladylike behaviour; jumping on Mollie the collie in the puppy pen and making short work of baby rottweiler ‘Rebel’ who failed to live up to his name and wimped off and cowered in corner.

Like Jessie J who is currently at number 3 in the hit parade with her single, ‘Do it Like a Dude’ Lady Doodle is not by any shape, means or form the shy retiring kind or any form of lap dog – or lap dancer for that matter. The only time she stops acting like a hooligan is first thing in the morning when she rushes to greet me with abounding love and affection, which gratifies my previously love denied existence no end.

But a slight problem has arisen and I have no idea why, when, or how it happened. I have taken to addressing her as Boobies – “Good morning Baby Boobies,” I whisper into her silky albeit slightly mucky from digging up my garden lobes. Or worse I shorten it to Boobs. “Well, good morning my precious Boobs.”

What is wrong with me? I have never before spoken in such a way to man nor beast, especially to man – and in particular in regard to my boobs. In fact I usually tend to ignore them – my boobs I mean, not men, who tend to ignore me anyway these days due to my antisocial disease and the fact that I am way beyond the age of mating.

A word of warning – shouting ‘Boobs’ or ‘Boobies’ in a public place is definitely not advisable, you will find people looking at you in the oddest manner. Phrases to be avoided at all costs – ‘Down Boobs’ – ‘Boobs will you stay put’ – ‘Get off boobies’ and even more confusing, ‘Boobs do you want to do a wee or a poo poo?’

At puppy boot camp me and my baby Boobies were singled out by the trainer. “If puppy won’t listen to you,” she barked (obviously spent too much time in the puppy pound) “make your voice that much deeper.”

Talking in a very deep voice especially about boobs is not to be recommended, unless you want everyone to think you’ve suddenly turned butch or are undergoing a sex change. A more appropriate name has to be found and soon before I either get arrested or start attracting (I should be so lucky!) a host of lesbian admirers.

Daisy – Daisy Doolittle, Daisy Doodles – could that be it? Don’t think I’ll have any daisies or daffodils in my garden this spring as Lady Doodles has dug up and probably ingested all my bulbs. As for my cousin Viv of ‘Viv Lives’ fame, she made this recent comment on her twitter post, “Well, hello brave snow drops, you don’t know just how pleased we are to see you.”

I presume she was talking about her bulbs and not her boobs. Well, at least I think she was, unless her husband who is Welsh has a pet name for them, in which case they should really be her ‘daffies’ shouldn’t they – or her ‘Leeks’ although it has been many a year since she’s had cause to breastfeed. I don’t know whether my cousin Viv has brave ‘daffies’ or not, but I would think so after undergoing the agony, not to mention the indignity of regular mammograms – bosoms have to be very brave to endure that kind of torturous procedure.

Does Daisy Doodle care about any of this you may ask – or the pontification of her name? In a woof no – she lies happily zonked out on the carpet, dreaming about sniffing bottoms no doubt.

It’s a dog’s life!

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