"Spunk. What the fuck kind of a name is Spunk?"

I looked at the little fucker, her eyes as dumb as anything. I thought of the name and where it came from. I remembered Crazy Lady, as I've come to fondly, or maybe not so fondly, remember her, had put the idea in my boy's head. "She's a spunky little puppy", she'd told him. "I think you should name her Spunk".

She (the dumb eyed dog, not the Crazy Lady) jumped up on the couch next to me and nuzzled in close. Soon, her dumbed eyes were closed and she was breathing deeply. I guess the hockey game bored her.

I can't really blame her. The hockey game was boring. The fucking Leafs are going nowhere again, this season. Fuck. Soon, I was thinking of Crazy Lady again. I thought of her on the couch with me. Come to think of it, she used to 'jump' onto not only the couch, but onto me as well. In certain ways, her crazed self was a good thing. For a while, anyway.

Most would think nothing would be better than to be with someone who was "mad" for sex. She was hungering sex all the time. When I think back, it wasn't bad, for a while. It was really novel. She would go to some other place. Always the same. I would end up on my back and she would be on top and the dissociation would happen. She would close her eyes and grind, and grind, and grind, and grind, faster, and grind, and wiggle, and grind and yell, and grind and yell, and grind and grind and grind and grind and scream, and grind and faster, and faster and faster and faster and grind and grind and grind and bounce and grind and yell, and curse high pitched and higher and higher and higher, and grind and grind and curse, and moooooaaaaaan.........

I didn't have to do anything but not cum, until she moaned.

After a few times, I started thinking of Urban Cowboy. It was weird. She would have been just as happy with a mechanical bull.

I stroked the dog and she let out a slow moan. Ha!

"You may have some dumb looking eyes, but at least you ain't crazy...."