The Dog Wants to Fuck My Leg

We got a dog. A puppy. A Havapoo puppy. Lately the Havapoo puppy has become somewhat aware of his own sexuality, that he has some. He follows me around the house and tries to get at my leg and I say no and he doesn’t understand the word no because our dog trainer has told us to only reward positive behaviours instead of punishing negative ones. The dog trainer told us that punishing negative behaviours will make the dog anxious and stressed, so now we’re raising a dog who’s not anxious and stressed about trying to fuck my leg. I don’t want the dog to fuck my leg, but I also don’t want the dog to become anxious and stressed about his sexuality, because isn’t that what every parent wants, even dog parents, for their children to not face the same challenges they did? I am not sure how to avoid damaging the dog psychologically, so I start thinking that maybe the best thing to do, or at least the easiest, is nothing at all, just ignore him and let him fuck my leg. He doesn’t ejaculate, he just humps my leg for a bit, and maybe that’s okay, maybe that’s a small price to pay for having a Havapoo puppy who’s not anxious and stressed about his sexuality. Maybe I can even play video games while he fucks my leg, kill a dragon, get a rare amulet. “Welcome to my new YouTube channel,” I imagine myself saying. “Can I beat Elden Ring while a dog fucks my leg? Like and subscribe to find out.” The only problem with ignoring him is that when he’s trying to fuck my leg, he makes these breathing sounds that are both loud and quiet at the same time, like a malfunctioning air conditioner, then our eyes inevitably make contact and I see that he’s looking at me a little bit bewildered by his own sex drive and that seems terrifying, because what if this is what all men look like when they’re having sex, what if this is what I look like? So I push him away, even if our dog trainer has told us not to say no to him. I say no to the dog trainer’s dog training, which the dog trainer also probably doesn’t want me to say no to. I try to redirect the dog, encourage him to fuck the couch, fuck his dog blanket. I put a little treat on top of the dog blanket because in the world of dog training seemingly any problem can be resolved with dog treats. I stack two couch pillows on top of the dog blanket and I show the dog the sexy obstacle course I made and I ask him, “Do you want to fuck that maybe?”, but he seems nonplussed. He’s discovered what he likes and doesn’t want to try anything else, like me when I order that one thing I know I like at that one restaurant I know I like. I am not used to being the object and focus of so much lust. I am a man. I am an average man. I am the most average-looking man on planet Earth. When I walk outside, no one pays any attention to me. I have the luxury of being almost invisible, except when I am with the Havapoo puppy, in which case people talk to the puppy. They say, “Hi handsome”, and he gets on his hind legs and does a little dance for them, and they’re so happy, he makes people so happy. He could run for mayor and they would vote for him because they don’t know that he’s a leg fucker, they don’t know that he has dark secrets, like that he prefers to eat garbage he finds on the sidewalk instead of the organic treats for gentrified dogs we give him at home. People don’t ask about his dark secrets, they just tell me that he has a magical smile and then they ask what kind of dog breed he is and I say Havapoo and they act like this is life-changing information, like I just taught them the name of a brand new planet or something, though they’re probably going to forget this conversation as soon as I walk away. I doubt they would ask about his breed if they knew about the leg fucking, but the puppy tries to restrain himself when we’re in public. When we’re not at home, he doesn’t fuck my leg, he just gives me this crazed look and then starts barking at me like he’s upset. My partner and I, we feel embarrassed when he’s barking in public for no reason, so we start saying “Quiet” to try to get him to settle down. We say “Quiet, thank you for being quiet, that’s a good quiet” and then we reward him with a treat so that he associates being quiet with getting a reward, but the dog never really seems to fully get the concept of a “good quiet.” Over time, we grow lazier and start just shushing him when he’s barking. “Shhhh,” we go, but the dog keeps barking over us. We talk about how he doesn’t seem to get the concept of shushing either and my partner says we should check in with the dog trainer and I reply that it doesn’t feel like we should get him a dog trainer, it feels like we should get him a librarian. It’s too bad the dog keeps wanting to fuck my leg, because except for when he’s trying to fuck my leg, me and the dog, we’re friends. We’re best friends. Our connection is so strong we make the Wi-Fi jealous. Even when I am cleaning up after him and I feel like I am his butler, it still feels like we’re good friends, and I want to believe that that’s possible, that you can be someone’s friend even if you’re also their butler. Wasn’t that Batman’s whole deal, how he was friends with his butler? I want to go back to being friends with the dog, so it seems obvious what needs to happen here: We have to get the dog neutered. I don’t particularly want to do that to him, though, as it seems cruel to scoop out his testicles just because he’s fucking my leg, like something a vengeful god would do. What if I got my leg amputated instead, would that be fairer to the dog? Did Batman save his friendship with his butler by getting him neutered? Was that the moral of Batman, that you should get your best friend neutered? So we decide to call the vet and we tell them we want fewer testicles. On the day of his operation, I feel anxious and guilty about doing this to him, so when he comes home I am relieved to see that he seems more upset about having to wear a plastic cone than losing his sexuality. He doesn’t understand the physics of walking around with a cone on his head so he bumps into walls like he’s doing slapstick comedy. He immediately stops trying to fuck my leg, and while it feels great to be able to move around the apartment without him targeting me like some sort of heat seeking missile, I can’t help but feel like the dog looks a little bit dejected now, like he knows something irreplaceable was taken from him. During the day, he sometimes falls asleep and barks in his dreams and my partner says that his dream barks don’t sound the same as his regular barks. “It sounds like he’s barking in reverse,” she says, like he’s dreaming backwards, like he wants to go back. After the cone comes off, I want to make the dog happy so I take him to the dog park, where he meets a Terrier about his size. The Terrier tries to mount him and he tries to mount the Terrier back because fuck you, and then they go around like that, trying to establish dominance, climbing each other like a literal social ladder. Then for a second I see it, I see my dog stay long enough on top of the other dog to try to fuck him. It’s like a kind of muscle memory has kicked in and he’s decided that humping the other dog is the best way to establish dominance, and suddenly I feel so happy to see that the dog remembers, that the dog can still be himself. I am so happy the dog still wants to fuck!