My beloved Scruffy
WHERE ARE ALL THE GAY ANIMALS???!!! shrieks Dr Brett Mills of the University of East Anglia, intimating that national treasure David Attenborough is some sort of horrible homophobe with a nuclear family agenda to promote in his wildlife documentaries. All that telly animal porn and not one paw up the posterior, not one Brokeback mounting, not even the odd instance of rimming when a cursory observation of pets in the park tells us that goes on around us all the time.
Where are they? Well, I had one for a starters. My beloved Scruffy the Wonder Dog, a rough-haired dachshund, who struck up a friendship with the Yorkshire terrier belonging to the ex-wife of a boyfriend.
The Yorkshire was an aggressive little mutt, even shorter than Scruffy, but he was intent on having his doggy delight with my baby who, in the absence of flowers, wine or even a juicy steak, wasn't interested. But the Yorkie would not take no for an answer and would wear him down until Scruffy stood still for it.
And so it came to pass that the ex-wife's dog came to put the girlfriend's dog under heavy manners and assert dominance through the act of animal lurve. It was like watching a canine Joe Pesci inflict himself on Leonardo de Caprio.
Reminded of Platoon where the bullying officer accuses one grunt of being "the sort of of person who'd take another person up the ass and wouldn't even have the manners to give him a reacharound", when the Yorkie was spent (after about thirty seconds) and it came to Scruffy's turn, the Yorkie would swagger off, yapping and snapping when Scruffy tried to mount. Poor Scruffy!
Boyz, boyz! A little more consideration, please.
So I can attest to the truth in the good doctor's claim that the animal kingdom contains all sorts of sexual expression — sea-horses being an interesting case in point. Can the BBC now please give us the gay animal porn for which we all secretly hanker? We pay our TV license fee as well, you know.