Sit Stay Hump? Don’t Pet Da Dawg!
Don't pet the dog, don't pet him whatever you do, because he ain't been fixed, and he knows some tricks, that'll sure make a fool out of you. —Jim Staford
Disclaimer: I’ve conveniently left out names in this story to protect the guilty, the innocent, and those who still claim, “I don’t remember that happening.” You know who you are. And as for the poor dog—he’s long gone now. But hey, a dog’s only as good as its trainer, right?! SOOO...
Did I ever tell y’all the one about my Cousins’s dog that had a special talent. And that was humping your leg on command.
Ah, childhood memories. Some people recall fishing trips, family barbecues, or warm cookies from Grandma. Me? I remember being restrained while my cousins’ dog—on command, mind you—practiced doing the humpity-hump on my leg. For some reason, my cousins thought that this was hilarious. To this day, I fail to see the humor. Maybe it was the sheer absurdity of it, or maybe mountain air does something weird to developing brains. But there I was, angry and traumatized, while the dog licked his shame away under the porch and my cousins caught their breath between fits of laughter. For some reason, my cousins thought that this was hilarious.
Let me set the scene: My cousins, proud products of the West Virginia mountains and inexplicably high honor roll GPAs, decided their finest entertainment came from a coordinated assault involving three parties: Two cousins to tackle and restrain you, one highly enthusiastic non-neutered dog, and a universal phrase of doom: “Git ‘er, boy!”
My Cousins’s Dog Had a Special Talent
But trust me, some talents are better left... unshared
One minute, you’re minding your business—probably sipping on Kool-Aid or sitting in a lawn chair, blissfully unaware. The next, you’re being restrained like a hapless cartoon character. Suddenly, the dog (or whatever his pitiful name was) comes bounding over, tail wagging, eyes sparkling with anticipation.
Cue my cousins, whooping and cackling like they’d just discovered fire. “Git ‘er! Go on, boy!” The dog didn’t need further encouragement. And there it was: the rhythmic leg hug of doom.
Now, here’s the weirdest part. If you screamed loud enough—like, “Aunt Heleeeeene!” loud— the dog would stop mid-hump, look deeply ashamed, and slink away as though he’d just been caught like he'd just been caught digging through the neighbor's trash. Honestly, I respected him for that. I’ve never seen such a mix of enthusiasm and Catholic-level guilt in one animal.
But my cousins? They were howling with laughter, as if orchestrating leg-mounted rodeos was their life’s calling. Imagine laughing so hard over your dog’s embarrassing career choices that you nearly sprain something.
Now, I know what you’re thinking: “Surely these cousins were wild hill people.” Nope. These were honor roll scholars. A’s and B’s, bright futures, brains for days. And yet their crowning achievement—the one they will still laugh about at weddings and funerals alike—was siccing their dog on innocent victims for the LOLs. These two put their academic gifts to use dreaming up frat-house pranks with a mut.
Did I forgive them? Sure. We were just kids, about 8 or 9 at the time, and the dog was only humping the air. Still, it was the anticipation that he might actually make contact with your leg that made you scream!
Cue the Cousins Git ‘em!
Suddenly, the dog (or whatever his pitiful name was) comes bounding over, tail wagging, eyes sparkling with anticipation...
Did I forget? Until now, it hadn’t crossed my mind. But then I came across the Jim Stafford song “Don’t Pet the Dog,” and, well, it’s Hump Day... so here we are.
Years later, whenever someone mentions the dog, I might involuntarily flinch—just a little. And if you see me at family gatherings standing with my back to the wall, just know I’m protecting myself. Not really.
Well, I ain’t 8 years old anymore. Sooo... come at me, bro! Or cousins.
If there’s a moral to this story, it’s this:
And while some dogs can fetch a ball, sit pretty, or roll over on command, my Cousins’s dog had a... special talent. But trust me, some talents are better left... unshared. Oh yeah, git yer male dog neutered!