This isn’t our dog, but it’s the same sort of sling I used to cut her nails.

Sunday afternoon: time has, once again, become a factor. There’s a list of activities left. Some are “have-to’s,” and some are “want-to’s.” Not all of them can be completed in the allotted time. My mission, should I choose to accept it, is to prioritize. (Sorry. It was starting to sound like the beginning of “Mission Impossible.”) We made stew yesterday, and that ate up a lot of time. I had planned on spanking Lion sometime in the afternoon. We watched football in the lull of the stew cooking. And there went the afternoon. The only good thing about it is that our team finally won. We won! I’m as shocked as you are.

By the time the stew was all wrapped up, Lion had taken a shower while I made sure the garbage was gathered up and set out. We decided to let the stew sit for a night before eating it since it always seems to taste better the second night. We decided on spaghetti, which was always our Sunday night go-to dinner. I was making a mental note of all the things that still needed to be done. Once I cleaned up from dinner, I headed in for a shower. Lion was snoozing. I’d already decided to spank him on Monday.

As I was showering, I went down the list again. Lion’s spanking would be Monday. The laundry would be Monday. I’d cut the dog’s lethal toenails on Monday. And then I realized I was pushing everything to Monday. There’s no way I could get all that done on Monday after I’d worked all day. I had to prioritize.

I’m sure you think Lion should have been a priority. If nothing else, I should spank him because I’d already pushed that off a night. I did prioritize Lion, just not in the way you’re thinking. The dog’s nails scratch him so badly he bleeds. He’s got bruises and sores from her nails. I have bruises and scratches, but she rarely makes me bleed. I decided the dog’s nails need to be done to avoid more injury to Lion. See? Priorities. Save the Lion.

I got her grooming table set up and muscled the forty-something pound dog into position. She does not like having her nails done. I have to trim the fur between her toes, and then I come after her with the grinder. Oh, it’s so scary for a dog. I made it all the way around with the trimmer and three-quarters of the way around with the grinder, and then she tried to climb on me. I was going to ask Lion for help in the beginning, but I figured he’d been on his feet too long making the stew. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do. He had to distract her so I could finish that last foot.

I’m not a pro at pawdicures. Some of her toenails are still a little long, but I think I’ve helped Lion avoid some of the scratches. Of course, we both could have avoided some scratches if she hadn’t gone into her psycho dog routine and jumped on the bed three times, getting right between us as we snuggled. She managed to punch me in the head and left a small scratch near my eye. We may have to get her some Xanax so she doesn’t hurt herself or us.

When I finally got back to Lion and sexy time, it was, you guessed it, nine o’clock. He was arousable, but he didn’t get as hard as I hoped. I was thinking he’d need to be much harder if I was going to ride him. I hoped for a bigger erection tonight. However, an orgasm seemed to sneak up on him out of nowhere. At least we think it was an orgasm. As silly as it sounds, neither of us was sure. He produced so little semen it might have been precum. And if he wasn’t sure, how could I be sure? If he gets horny again today, I guess it wasn’t an orgasm. [Lion — It was a ruined orgasm. Mrs. Lion tried to rescue it, but it was too late.]

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1 Comment

  1. If memory serves (“Just a Fact of Life”) now he gets sparked for having a ruined orgasm in addition to yelling for you when you came home at lunch. Should give the chance to really tear his ass up.

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