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Everything You Need To know About A Male Dog



I used to have a puppy, a cute, brown furred, male puppy. He was obedient, loving, would lick at my feet; wag its tail around me. I gave him the best of things, feeding, attention and love. And he reciprocated. No matter what love anyone showed him, he remembered his home, me, his real owner.

And he was like that until he comes of age. When he was about 2 and a half feet tall, he spends less time at home. Whenever he had the chance, he sneaks out, jumping over the fence. He spends less time at home. He was always with the neighbours. He spends the night outside in the street with one neighbour’s dog or another.

When he returns, he got punished, a whole day tied, without food. He looked feeble and made me think, he was only being a dog.

He got released and off he went again, down the street, to his bitches. And that day, he never returns. His head was splattered on the road. He was just being a dog.


Sometimes he comes home –those are pretty good days. Most times he doesn’t return at all. No argument, he always has to be busy. When he calls, saying ‘I can’t be able to make it home tonight,’ you know a male dog; he has taken to the bitch’s bed that night. A dog is a dog.

When you have a dog, he loves you. No point in thinking otherwise. His world would crumble if you desert him, you have noticed. Who will give him such a warm care? You are the moon that light is starred night. The noon is bleak without the sun. The only woman in his life is you; though he is troubled by other women – he is troubled, not the other way round. And they are just trying, he is yours. He would always return to you. He always will.

He would cuddle you all over like a pet he is. Maybe he wants something in the heat. You have to be a careful – use condoms – else you pay for someone’s sin for the rest of your life. A dog will always be a dog.


When we first met, it was magnetic. He was handsomely tall, with white eyeballs — I will look up to see despite wearing heels — chocolate skin and he loves a tidy beard.

Just like the first time I picked my once little puppy, he, too, was cute.

We clicked quickly. He is from the south like I was. I called him Ayomi, though his mother named him Ayomide. He meant my joy, my world, the freezer that keeps my love’s ice compact.

Like loving my little puppy, we were made for each other, no one and nothing could divide us.

He would skip class to have a nice time with me – in his house, in his bed, under the same blanket. He would remember my birthday and meet my friend, gloriously declaring himself as the proposed groom. I didn’t doubt it.  Nothing to doubt. But I received jealous stares.

Now I wish I should have recognized him as a dog, just like I did carrying my one little puppy. How I wish – now – that all we shared was a feeble dream that troubled my imagination. How I wish it wasn’t a reality that trouble my mind and extend to sleep. My present day is a mess for still having him.

He has too many busy nights.

Damn it! That blanket has covered many bitches; it’s hard to think.

It is good for them- fools. They know they weren’t loved and they follow him. Or perhaps they are innocent like me – but weren’t just lucky, who knows?

In the beginning, I was in their shoes. He said so sweet, ‘I have girls, who want me, but I know what I want and I’m sure none is like you. Onyinye. I want this to work if you will only trust me.’ And I trust him – like the girls did.

I believe him. I got lucky, got a ring, a promise that after graduation, this will work. Unlike those unlucky ladies, who got nothing except kiss and many gifts, a night(s) under the sheet – it hurts to think. Maybe they get the ‘you mean a lot to me’ too. But he never loved them, or gives anyone else a ring or meets anyone else’s parent. Or maybe they did – it’s hard to know. Thinking of it stabs my heart with needle sting.

I got to know him gradually like understanding I my once little puppy.

Time flies. One night during the dog to lady relationship, his bed was wet with semen, just at an unexpected visit. He begged. We moved on – we all make mistakes. The other day at the supermarket, he went back that he forgot his phone which, in fact, was in the car. He went back – and I saw him… I saw the idiot – wagging round another damsel. He fought hard for an explanation. My door recognizes him every day as the fool who always come here to beg for forgiveness. He would come dejected and plead at the door. He seems as my once little puppy, crawled at the door, sad, with a deflated ears. Then, I accept.

The day that pulverize our relationship – he would have died. My cousin fell into his trap. I would have ended his life, just like one heartless driver did to my once little puppy. Rather, when I found them under the same blanket, my cousin, ignorant of the man’s connection with me, I burst into fistful tears. Ayomi has ruined me. I won’t let him empathize with me, this is the end – but he won’t let it be.

On my finger was his ring, the promise. Our life would blossom. Our kids will play, with us sitting, watching together under evenly pruned, green grasses. The girl would have his eyes; the boy would have his height. This has ended, I thought.

The first magnetic love at Shoprite came back, like a strong storm in my head, distorting many cords and I winched. When we were young – four years ago – it was just like the dream from a favourite play. Romeo and Juliet. He had the face, the physic, the wealth. He had money pillars to lean on. Girls had always flocked around him. Like tick to my once little puppy.

Once, when we had a hot argument, he shouted, is it my fault that girls want me? He was close to tears. He needs help, I thought. I would have helped him, like I did, disinfecting ticks – girls – from my once little puppy. But Ayomi cannot be helped. He wants to this just as much as they flock around him like a thousand insects.

He came begging. He has grown lean and thin, beards untidy, sore eyes, couldn’t look into mine. I sent him back with a stick. He kept coming.

Everywhere I go – home, friends gathering, and office – I received his message from friends and relatives. ‘He has changed. Give him another chance.’ Only if they knew how many chances I had given him.

He would come again, to the office, home, Shoprite, my saloon – looking like my once little puppy after being punished with day fast. I couldn’t help it that my cousin shared the same bed with him. It’s too much to chew. Though the marriage was close, I would let it go. But his family and mine would not hear it. They came as though no other woman can wear his wedding ring. And Ayomi disturbed my dreams. In the day, he was getting thinner.

I wouldn’t have watched him die. I remembered those times when he was healthy when we used to share the same cup of margarita. Or those times when we are cuddled in the same tub, naked, covered in warm foams. Or the day together outside, our back on the beach’s sand, staring at the sea’s sky. We had thought of Korean names for each other. He said I would be ‘Kim.’ Then, he would be ‘Lee.’ Or the other day, when we travelled to our village, he drank a lot of palm wine till he falls asleep. I tried carrying him on my back, he was too heavy, some meters covered and we fall. He wasn’t alcoholic, I can swear. It tasted good, I couldn’t help it, he had said the next day.

And I embrace, with a teary smile, the possibility of those times again – he the best I had had, luck no stones at me, I can’t just let him go.

Two months later, after our marriage, we had a hot argument about his lateness which I stormed out to my parent. Willingly, I returned the third day to find another woman, in my home, under the same blanket – with the dog.

Oh dog, you are just what you are – a dog.

This story was sent in by Hadeh

Call me Hadeh. I write. Because I can have a thousand lives before I die. While sitting behind a bunch of papers, a pen in my hand, I have met people I never knew existed. Follow IamHadeh on Instagram and I’ll follow you back. Catch more stories on stringedwords.com


Author. Screenwriter. Blogger

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  1. Adeshina omotayo says:

    I love this 👆, but lemme tell you, he’s not a dog, just that the blood over run in his vein

  2. Ceey says:

    Nice one Hadeh, I like the way you write. And he is a dog.

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