Bitch, Please: The Life Of Mae, A Boykin From Mobile (Installment X)

Do you know the N.W.A. song “Express Yourself”?

I do.

This bitch knows how to articulate what is going in her mind. Yes, you heard me.

My humans, or anyone else for that matter, are never in doubt as to what mood in which I find myself. This sort of expressiveness is not unique to me. I suppose most ladies have the ability to communicate in ways subtle, and not so subtle; their pleasure, displeasure, or general mehness (neologism derived from the word “meh,” which means neither here nor there or neither good nor bad).

My human’s paternal grandmother was a grand lady. Pictures of her abound at the Bungalow and up the country. Tall, slim, tailored, and witty, the grand was divine.

She was an artist at communicating much without necessarily saying a word. That art is one I must have inherited. A transition in a facial feature and a change in posture are means by which I let people, namely the human, know what I feel about the status quo.

One of the physical attributes that people, and probably other animals, notice first about me is my pair of yellow eyes. My human always heard that dogs with yellow eyes are batshit nuts.

He can now confirm theory.

My eyes are very expressive. They convey the full gamut of my emotions and, at times, my expectations.

For instance, I can do soulful like no other canine.

This eye maneuver, a look that is knowing tempered by sadness, is employed for multiple purposes. Being a chow hound, I deploy soulful eyes most often to con my way into getting some nosh. Yes, you got that right. This home girl likes some food.

If I see anyone eating, I need to join them.

No one should eat alone. That is sad.

Do you perceive how thoughtful I am?

Soulful eyes are not limited to securing people-food. I use them to soften if not negate punishment.

You undoubtedly realize by now if you have read one of my articles that I am mischievous to say the least.

Look at the title of this column. I am always up to something.

Lewis Grizzard never had the divine pleasure of meeting me, but I would have been his canine muse. For benefit, not to mention the benefit of the whole of humanity, there are consequences to actions.

I have found that I can lessen the severity of retribution by way of soulful eyes.

That soulful stuff only goes so far in life, and in my life in particular. I am one feisty bitch.

Sometimes the attitude or mantra is not No, but Hell to the no.

I squinch my eyes together to let the human, yes mainly him, know that I am having none of this. Yes, whatever this might be, if it is not to my liking, no ma’am to it. Nada.

Feisty bitch can cause frustration and fear for the human. If dude cuts a male human equivalent to feisty bitch eyes, he is going to win the standoff.

I do not surrender easily.

I run off, box him in the privates, plot revenge, etc . . . All of the above are cause for fear at some moment or another. The human and others are afraid I might get hit by a car.

When I dart off in town, I could become roadkill.

Yes, I should not run off. I do it at times all the same.

A good blow to the equipment should be the mental toolkit of any lady.

There is no faster way to shut a man down than a blow below the belt. A feisty-eyed punch to the privates gives me a little more time to avoid consequences for actions or simply put off doing something that does not blow wind up my figurative skirt.

Artful employ of my yellow eyes are not the only armament in my arsenal. The turn of my head can emphatically impart how I feel about any goings on.

For instance, the turn of the head communicates to the human, why, yes, I heard you.

I just do not give a . . .

The turn of the head communicates no, be it ma’am, sir, or way.

The turn of the head is my way of showing whatever is happening or expected does not involve moi.

Cocked ears express all sorts of things for docked-tail dogs like me. When I hear something, it can result in any number of ear postures.

Intruder, be the threat real or imagined: fast, quick, straight up ear posturing.

I do not want to do what you are telling me to do: regular ear posture.

Scratch behind my ears: another positioning. I am up to something now: the worst of all for my human. Shit is going down!

Tails communicate a lot. All dogs have them.

Like many spaniels, my tail is docked. It still swings, and often.

Swinging nub means happy swamp poodle.

Straight out nub indicates I am going to pounce on a real or imagined intruder, interest, or prey.

Tucked nub is the worst for me. It expresses that no, I did not mean to do what I did, even if I consciously did so.

Dogs might not be able to express themselves in the King’s English, but I do talk, and quite often.

My spare wonders what my voice would be like if I could speak. He and the human think I would sound like either Wanda Sykes, Karen Walker, or Madea.

I am down with all of those!

In the morning, I am particularly vocal. My wakeup time varies with the day of the week, type of weather, place of stay, and time of the year. I rise early on weekdays, usually between five and seven. Weekends are cause for later slumber. The last is a good thing for my humans.

When up the country, I stay in my grandmother’s room. Sometimes I adapt myself to her shelter and other times not.

Even though I am a water dog, I do not do rain.

Any water that falls from above is not my thing.

I will not get up and walk in the rain. My morning routine begins with doggie yoga.

I am an expert of the downward dog. I raise my snout and speak while I stretch.

I yell, too. Yelling is human-speak for barking. I bark at other dog’s, all things that fly, and my human when he ticks me off.

Growling is related to barking, but different. I growl at cats and my human when he gets on my nerves.

One very distinctive way that I express my emotions is slapping.

I can bitch slap. The human is the sole recipient of this action. When he baths me, I swat at him. When he tries to keep me in his lap when I want to be free, I swat him.

Sometimes, and just for kicks and giggles, I swat him. I have to keep that bastard on his toes.

This bitch has all of the feels.

I feel and express my emotions in lots of ways. Bottling that shit up is not good for anyone, you know.

Expression is one thing, but artful expression is another.

I do everything with panache. You might inquire as to why I do what I do the way I do it.

The answer is simple. To quote the great Karen Walker, “I am lady as face.”