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Ren Houk

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Ren Houk last won the day on November 11 2017

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About Ren Houk

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  1. I'd like to apologize

    I don't know you beyond what you have shared here, but I'm glad to know you are on the mend on several different levels. You have my respect and admiration for bearing such a heavy burden. I've been around the block a time or two and I'm happy to lend an ear if you need someone to connect with. Something amazing happens when we connect with others that heals mind and spirit. Humanity spends so much energy on divisive behaviors that it's at least a small check mark in the plus column when we lend each other a helping paw.
  2. Thanks for sharing, RH. I remember the Velerio thread and wonder if you recall sending me copies of your de-lurk or other things. I know I have a number of emails from you, but would need to review their content. For me Ebon's passing and the recent loss of beloved four leggers lead to the crushing realization of isolation; that I could not grieve their loss and genuinely share my feelings and memories beyond a very close few. Your recount of bonding and loss strikes deep and paints clearly the enormous value of sharing our mutual suffering, joys, loves, and yes, even the occasional contentious debate. Please, do not cut your word economy budget. -Ren
  3. Silverwolf mentioned a desire for an unbiased account of Pepe's activities. How about from the dog's mouth himself? The book was written before he left the community, the interview of course afterwards. If you read his autobiography you will understand why he was rejected and left the community and was motivated to inflict harm on those who he believed harmed him. This speaks volumes to the double standard within the community often seen or experienced as noted by 30-30 in a topic below.
  4. Recording of "Greg" e.g. Randy Pepe on Howard Stern part4.mp3 part3.mp3 part2.mp3 part1.mp3
  5. DAD... I'M A ZOOSEXUAL The Life And Loves Of A Dog Lover This Book Is Dedicated To My Father And My Dogs Lace, Laika 1, Laika 2, Star, Bridger, Buck, Corky, Stanford and all my other dogs It was a typical late spring day in May, not a cloud to be seen anywhere....there was a slight breeze in the springtime warmth. Randall pondered the last few months while gazing out the window, the grass in the hay field waved in the breeze... Damn grass needs mowing again! what a pain in the ass he thought as the memories of all the recent events came to the forefront of his thoughts, the impending mowing chore loomed ahead but was put out of mind for the moment. Why does all this crap have to happen to me? it's just amazing, why can't people just leave me alone! it's just one thing after another. Randall continued to get worked up thinking about the injustices, aggravations and irritations of late, his four dogs mulled about the room anxiously looking forward to the run up the driveway to the mail box. There are three large dogs and a collie, their expressions were happy and animated as they further worked themselves into a frenzy of activity near the front door. Randall thought to himself Oh shit, I guess I'd better get the mail and then do the damn lawn again . Moving towards the door caused a higher peak of excitement in the dogs, Randall opened the door and the pack of canines exploded to the outside yard in great anticipation of a run! Opening the outside gate and snapping a lead onto Bucks' collar the dogs and Randall went to get that mail...wonder what'll be in the mail today he pondered. Randall also reminisced briefly about Buck, and how lucky he felt to have gotten him, considering the recent events in Randalls' life... Buck was a four year old male, with a long coat, massive head and the typical markings that was the hallmark of his breed. He was a sweet natured loving creature who somewhat resembled a teddy bear to Randall, only, he couldn't figure out why that was. BUCK!! stop pulling! Randall became a little annoyed at the dog for pulling, one of these days were going to have to get some training into you and then I can let you off lead for a run. Laika, Corky and Bridger had already vanished ahead, up the driveway, Randall looked ahead and watched them run, Bridger came lumbering back, whining out of jealousy in seeing his master petting the larger dog Buck. Bridger was pushing seven years of age, old for dog of his breed, yet the dog had no idea he was supposed to be "old", he could not comprehend that his days on this earth were coming to a close with-in two or three years perhaps, and he could not know that he would leave behind a very saddened master. Then there was Laika, the only bitch in the group, Laika was still a youngster at eighteen months of age, but she was the ruler of the pack in many ways, and highly jealous of attention paid to the other dogs. She had no qualms about making her feelings known to the other dogs that she was the boss and didn't like them to get too social with the master. And lastly, there was Corky, a male collie, Corky was up to the grand old age of nine years, he was the social outcast to the other dogs, maybe because he was "different" than they were, maybe something along the lines of how people treat others who are "different", the gays and lesbians, blacks and anyone who was different. Bridger enjoyed showing Corky that HE was more powerful and stronger, in a way I can see parallels in the human society, the strong subduing the weaker, the politicians and law enforcement officials flexing their might and strength against the weaker elements of society, the peasants as it were. Randall and the dogs reached the mailbox within a few minutes, opening the box Randall pulled out the pieces of mail, closed the door and grabbed the newspaper from it's container, Buck and Bridger always came all the way up, while Corky and Laika preferred to run, Laika with a stick or object in her mouth as usual. Randall headed back towards the converted bus that has been their home for the last seven years. Well, nothing but shit in the mail today oh well, maybe something will come tomorrow. Now I gotta get that damn lawn done. Putting the dogs back inside, Randall got on his bike and rode over next door, pulling up near the front door, no one was home. Putting the mail on the kitchen counter and popping a handful of M & M's in his mouth, he grabbed the keys to the tractor and headed outside. He looked at the huge mechanical beast with disdain and thought about how he disliked having to mow the ten acres. Well lets get this done, wish that damn grass would die already.... Climbing up and turning the ignition to the on position, the old diesel engine cranked several times and then caught. Randall headed out towards the first of three fields and started mowing. He continued to think of the recent events, the events that had not only cost him his beloved club membership and position, as well as a few friends, but also his trust in the human race as a whole was shattered. He remembered the letter he received some three Months earlier from his club President, mike, he remembered the lines on the stark white paper with the club logo and familiar friendly signature of someone he knew and liked, only, this was a different kind of letter than ones he received before. This was an official letter... Over and over Randall replayed the letters' text in his mind- "Dear Mr. ________ About a Month or so ago I received correspondence from someone who said you wrote some sexually explicit materials involving sex with animals, while using the clubs' name and your title...." The letter went on to say that the comments made were "repugnant and repulsive" and informing Randall that his volunteer position and chairmanship on a committee he worked two years to get in place - was gone, he further read that the board of directors had been informed of this action and the reasons why. The letters' "sex with animals" and "The board has been informed of my reasons" sentences played over and over in Randalls' mind like an old scratched LP . The outrage he felt returned when he remembered what his club member friend Maria had told him on the computer during a couple of computer chats, he could recall the screens' text as it burned into his memory. Maria: What's up Randall : there ya are! Randall : not a thing! Maria: I talked with a bunch of Board members about you tonight. Randall : huh? Maria: I felt compelled. Randall : to do what? Maria: To state my views on how they handled the matter. Randall really? Maria: yes Randall : what brought that out? Maria: I told them that I didn't give a rats ass what you did behind closed doors and that mikes actions almost drove you to suicide! I further told them that they cannot mess with people's personal lives like that! That your father called me to thank me and that I was glad that I didn't have to explain to him why you killed yourself. Maria: All over a stinking dog club! Randall : lesser people WOULD have killed themselves, I know several who came close! TOO close! what if anything did anyone say? Maria: cindy, julie and don couldn't believe it. Randall : Im speechless! Maria: I don't care. I wanted to make them realize that when they screw with peoples emotions, suicide can and does happen. How would they feel then? I was pissed! Randall : that is true, and that CAN happen very easy yes well what suddenly brought this about? Maria: So there-that was my evening. Talking to them about mike. Randall : and they kind of felt he was in charge and doing right? Maria: No-they were not in agreement with the way he handled it but couldn't do anything. They also didn't consider the impact it would have on you. Randall : they'd have no idea! Maria: I kept calling you a 33 year old young man, on the brink of taking your own life. Randall : well Im still speechless! Maria: This Board is a sham. Randall : I agree Maria: I figured I would give them something to discuss in their closed session at the National. Randall : I can imagine! Maria: Maybe they will be more compassionate next time. Randall : I was considering writing to the board again before the national, bad idea now huh? Maria: don't write another word. Not to anyone. Randall : ok Maria: I have to post something so I'll talk later. Randall : thanks maria I mean that Maria: bye Randall : bye Maria: i know Maria has left the chat. Randall thought about that conversation and had warm feelings towards Maria, a married heterosexual and a fellow club member who had just some six months earlier came upon a thread on a computer newsgroup, a thread that mentioned sex with animals and which had Randalls' screen name in the text , Maria wrote to Randall and asked "What on earth brought this topic of sex with animals up??" He had thought long and hard, many hours about what he could reply back with, should he just ignore the mail... no, that wouldn't work, knowing human nature she would probably dig further and find out the truth, that he has sex with dogs and then it would be all through the eight hundred member club like a wild fire, treacherous human nature being what it is... Randall decided to write Maria a long detailed letter explaining everything and hope for best. With great thought he wrote the letter, but now some six months later he could not recall the details, just that he extoled how he cared for his dogs and would never harm or injure them. He went on further to describe what a zoosexual is and how they feel about the animals being more like a spouse and definitely not a sex toy, it was a deep emotional and physical attachment not unlike two married humans. Maria had written back the very next day, the letter starting out with a line that said "It is not my place to judge you, I know you and that you care for your dogs and have fought hard for the breed, and that's all that matters" Randall remembered feeling wonderful, someone who is not a zoo understands! and what's more- was not telling him "You are a piece of shit who should be castrated" as he had read so many times before in nasty hate mail sent via e-mail. Randall started to think about the later conversation and the anger started to return. Maria : Randall, please give up the fight, the board is like a steam roller ready to roll over you Randall : Well shit Maria, I'm pissed and I'm fired up Maria : Why can't you let it go and get on with your life, it's just a club Randall : NO!, you're wrong, it was much more than just a clkub to me, it was a third of my life, maria, I only got three things, my dogs, computer and the club, now unless you got something new to report I'm going ahead andhvaing my lawyer send them a letter. Maria : They have something else of yours Randall : well all they have is an unsigned letter with no return address Maria: No, they have more Randall remembered staring at the screen with mixed emotions of anger, rage and frustration, is she for real? is she telling me the truth or is she just trying to "save me from myself" what can they have, I have to find out he thought. He remembered seeing the stupid typos appearing on the screen and thought for a second "I cant even do that right" Randall : ok, well what have they got? Maria : im not telling you because youre not acting mature enough to handle it Randall: shit Maria this pisses me off, i just dont care any more, i want them to realize im not playing games, this has been the most vicious thing anyone has ever done to me, this one really takes the cake The bitterness and pain of the past events came forth, Randall tried to hold back the tears and simultaneous feelings of anger and resentment. Steering the big tractor around the electric pole, he started thinking about the friend who betrayed him, the one who Maria said was "an artist on the east coast" , Randall thought about this artist... The one who twelve years earlier had written to him for help in making molds because she couldn't afford to have them made and didn't know how to make them herself. Over the subsequent years they became friends, sharing letters every week and even visiting one another. That damn cunt, I'd like to break her face for what she did to me, how could she do that to me after all the things I did for her over the last twelve years? Suicide thoughts vaguely came and went, it would be so easy, just turn on the gas and we would be gone, no more bullshit. The feelings of resentment and anger flooded his thoughts as he remembered the things he did for her, he tried to recall what he wrote in his letter to her several months before but couldn't, he only remembered an honest letter in which he said he was tired of living a lie and hiding, that he was a zoosexual since he was nine years old, one who has a sexual relationship with their animal partner. He went on to mention masturbating male dogs as the act, sparing the more x-rated details. How can anyone think THAT'S abuse he asked himself, male dogs enjoy sex, what the hell is wrong with some people! What motivated her, what was she thinking of and hoping to accomplish? I can't figure it. Randall thought back to his childhood years, wondering as he has countless times in the past, why he was different, why didn't he feel attracted to human women, or men for that matter, did something happen in childhood that he blocked out, or was this just "one of those things"? Was this genetic, it couldn't be as simple as a lifestyle choice as some seem to think, no, there must be more to it that so simple an answer, but what could it be, where were the answers he sought? CHAPTER TWO Randall started out life in December 1959, unwanted, his "real" mother was considering an abortion, until a couple discovered this fact from their physician. The couple were in their 40s and already had a daughter of their own who was just sixteen old, the father was the son of an Italian immigrant who came to the United States and from nothing built up a restaurant, one at which he entertained guests with violin music while proffering up huge dishes of Italian food, even feeding for free people who had no money. The son, Thomas, was raised a Catholic, and taught ; "take care of your family no matter what, it was the mans' duty". Thomas grew up and met Elizabeth, the daughter of a Jewish woman, the couple met in Florida during the war and as naive as they were they did manage to produce a daughter. Struggling at the army base to make ends meet while raising the new baby the war raged on. Thomas was a staff Sargent, having never gone to the front lines he was discharged for medical reasons. The couple eventually settled in the New York City area, enjoying life and the sites around them. Sixteen years passed quickly, by now Thomas had, for several years, owned a successful Italian restaurant in a landmark building in Greenwich village with his brothers. It was a comfortable place where like his father before him, he also fed people who had no money to pay for a nice meal. Elizabeth came home with the information that there was a baby Dr. Patrini had told her of, one who was going to be aborted, she wanted that baby- a son. Thomas also wanted a son but Elizabeth had a medical problem which prevented having more children after having the first. They had long ago given up the idea of having a second child of their own. Now here was the chance, the opportunity to have that second child and at the perfect stage in their life, with a daughter about ready to leave home they could devote much time to the child. On December 1st, the call they had been expecting came, they had a boy! the son they wanted, and he was completely healthy and normal. Over the coming months, the couple hired a German live-in "nanny" Sabine, they also added an in ground swimming pool, the restaurant was doing extremely well and the large home the family lived in reflected this, it was a classic late Victorian styled home on Long Island, over an hours drive each way from the restaurant, it had three floors, land, gardens and a full basement. The family stayed there for six years. Randall well recalls the swing set, Christmas toys and the German nanny. With vivid recollection he remembered the short walks down the road and back, under the Long Island Railroad tracks through a tunnel to the other side, he remembered the pool and being in it, as well as the huge Christmas trees each year that touched the ceiling in the eighteen foot high living room, and the toys and gifts that were piled higher every year, it was the couples' way of showing their love, in some small measure to, perhaps make up for the long hours that Thomas was away at work. Randall does not have much in the way of memories of his mother during these five years, he remembers the Nanny, Father, Sister and Grandma, but where was his mother? Over the years he could not remember, it was lost to the past, forgotten. Then came a day when things were uprooted, they were moving to a new house a few miles away, a smaller house which also meant that Sabine would no longer be working for them, Randall had vague memories of feeling abandoned because Sabine had left, never to return, she had gone back to Germany. Sabines' letters to the child went unanswered and the two never had contact again. It was here that Randall and his playmates first experimented playing "doctor" in the expensive log cabin playhouse that had been set up on the East side of the house. Randall was about seven at that time, and on his own he discovered masturbating and how good it felt, at that age there were no inhibitions or embarrassment, he remembers masturbating in his bedroom watching TV with the door open, if was fun, it felt good. He remembers the fights between his parents, with mother being the aggressor and father being the pacifist. "One fight that stands out that happened during the summer, I remember being told to sit down on a foot stool in the middle of the TV room, there were magazines all over the floor-Girlie magazines! only, I was too young to understand or even care about pictures of naked women. Mother was yelling and screaming at his Father for having these magazines, I didn't know what this was about, I didn't care, I just wanted to get out of there, their yelling frightened me into crying. That was all I remember of that incident." "We had an above ground swimming pool set up in the driveway, it was probably twelve or fourteen feet across and perhaps four feet or so deep. My playmates were all girls because on this street there were no boys, or none my own age until later when a family with a son named Charlie moved in. it was in this pool that I kissed my first girl on the lips, after all these years I don't even remember her name. I do remember a strange feeling in my crotch, and almost electrical or tingling sensation that I liked. I remember one girl, and older girl who one day asked me something" "Do you know the facts of life?" "Huh? facts? what?" "The facts of life!... where babies come from!" "Oh, yeah, well mommy and daddy pray real hard and a stork brings them a baby, that's what mother told me" "Hahah, no silly, thats not where babies come from! well someday you'll find out" "I remember feeling kind of embarrassed, and that someone was lying to me, there was something someone was not telling me, I had to find out. One other incident I remember was stealing the fancy radiator cap off a neighbors antique car, it had a thermometer in it. I remember my Father finding it or I showed it to him sometime later, he was furious and told me to take it back. I was too afraid to take it back and as I recall I buried it in the back yard. Someday someone may be gardening back there and find that treasure if it hasn't already been found. I think that set up a pattern, for I would take things if I wanted them, never useless items as a kleptomaniac takes, but items that I wanted. I don't know why either, for we had enough money that I could have asked for anything I wanted and probably had gotten it. There were times when I was sick in bed from the flu or a bad cold, my father would come home early with an armload of toys. Father was a giver, although he tended to be the kind of person who uses bribes instead of force, gifts instead of punishment. He never in my entire life ever hit me, spanked me or hit mother, it was not something he could do, there was one exception however... I can remember mother telling him to spank me for something I did, that was the only time he ever did that and he had tears in his eyes. Afterwards, with the door to the bedroom closed he told me to make sounds as though I was being spanked, it was for mothers' benefit and he didn't want to spank me." At school one afternoon, I was held past 3 o'clock for doing something that got me into trouble, sure don't recall what it was! anyway, I was locked in the classroom with the lights off while I suppose, the teacher was going to call my parents. The janitor came in and turned the lights on, I hid behind the roll around blackboard and then slipped out the open door when he wasn't looking. I went out to the road and started walking home just like that, at age six. I had no idea how far it was or anything, but it was several miles at least. I started thinking about what mother always told me...."If you ever need help call a police-man, call a police-man.... a police-man..." The words rang through Randalls' mind, he stuck out his thumb to hitch a ride, the first car or two passed him by, but the third one slowed down...it was a police car! terrific Randall thought as he continued to stick his thumb out for the ride he thought he would get. The man was quite angry and yelled "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?" he was still seated in the car and awaiting a response. "Ahhhh well Mommy told me i could get a ride home.." "Don't you know there's dangerous people who could kill you or kidnap you?" "Bend DOWN! I want to see your FACE!" Randall was too scared to look the man in the eyes and had only been low enough to see his lips and nose, bending down further on the passenger side of the car he could see the man was angry. "Where do yo8u live?" "25 West creek farms road" With that the man got out and flagged down a high school bus that was approaching from the rear, he made the driver take the boy on board and drop him off at the four corners near Randalls house. The boy sat in the front seat amongst older kids who teased, tormented and made fun of him during the drive. I was a pretty bold brash kid then and thought nothing of just doing things like that. I even cut school one day and was wandering down the street one street over from ours, when I spotted the familiar white T-bird... OURS!! yep, it was mother out looking for me, hiding in the nearby bushes didn't work either I discovered rather rudely when the car stopped directly opposite and a woman's voice yelled "GET IN THE CAR RANDALL" the school had called her, and she found me wandering the road and took me to school. Sometime in 1967, just a year after moving to this house, they were getting ready to move again, this time to a house in Cold Spring Harbor Long Island. "I remember the day we loaded the moving truck up, I went down the road to say goodbye to my playmate Charlie, except, he wasn't home. A I was leaving I saw his skateboard and on impulse took it with me, I guess as something to remember him by perhaps. As the moving truck was being loaded I was playing with that skateboard when suddenly Charlie appeared! To say I was embarrassed would be an understatement! it was an extremely awkward situation, but one in which Charlie in a way diffused, he asked why I took his skateboard. I don't remember what excuse I gave him, but his response was "I guess you thought it was yours..." "We moved to our new house on a cul-de-sac, that meant another change of schools. During the year we lived there I joined the obligatory Cub Scouts, which it seems all boys join. I can remember not getting along with the den mother and being ejected or I quit, I had only a few friends but discovered a bunch of new plastic friends when my father brought home a motorized go kart for me, I had chipped in fifty dollars and he paid the rest, for some reason I remember the price- Three hundred and fifty dollars, which in 1968 was a pretty large sum. Suddenly every kid in the neighborhood just had to have a ride, it was several hours before I even got to ride my own toy! I remember feelings of resentment about that, irritation perhaps. By the next day, virtually all of those plastic friends had vanished and I was quite glad to be able to use my go-kart with out a mob of strange kids all over me. There was one incident I can remember that seems somewhat important, there was a girl next door, she was a few years older than I was. For some reason she decided she wanted a ride perhaps and I refused, she then stood in the driveway and tried to block my path and dared me... I simply ran her over! She wound up in the emergency room or doctors, I never knew which, and came back with some fair injuries to her legs. There was also a neighbor boy, who was also a few years older than I, one day he thought it would be "cute" to have me hold the spark plug wire while he yanked the cord. Naive and trusting as I was then, I saw no reason not to trust him. I got the jolt of my life from that and remember going to the sink crying and putting my hand under the cold water. Sometime later he commandeered my go-Kart for a ride, he rode for hours, leaving me there by myself, leaving his bicycle unattended, I came up with the idea of loosening the nuts on his front axle because he liked to "pop wheelies", I suppose in retaliation for both the spark plug incident and the taking of my go-kart for far too long, Later, He got on his bike to go home, I stood in the front doorway as he rode up the driveway, and I shouted "Pop a wheelie", I heard a faint "okay" from the distance. I closed the door as I saw the wheel leave its' supporting forks flying forward through the air. I heard a crash and yelling! a few moments later he came to the front door and pounded on it, the opening door revealed his numerous abrasions and scratches, as I recall, I played innocent while mother fixed him up. I seemed to like breaking things, I systematically took mothers' entire record collection from the closet, record by record and used them for "frisbees", smashing them against the large tree in the front yard , I remember hating the song she played frequently, composed by Barbara Streisand I thought, it had a line that went ; "..is that all there is ?.....is that all there is ??... is that all there is my friend.." bla bla bla, I used to ridicule it and aggravate mother. We also had at that house, grandmother living with us, she in her mid sixties, we got along well but somehow I resented her living with us, maybe because it was like having TWO mothers in the house, but I can recall making it difficult for her to be there and she moved out into her own place again. Here at this house where we live for just one year I sure caused a lot of trouble, running the neighbor girl over with my go kart, getting into a bru ha with another neighbors parents and I was banned from their property because I used to floor the gas pedal of the go kart in their gravel driveway.... As I recall mother got into a huge argument with them and told me years later that the woman was a nut who made threats to harm me and that was why we moved. We also had a neighbor on the other side, Mr. Samson, he had a boat he was repairing and rebuilding the engine on, I remember helping, but one day he said he was too busy to work on the boat, somehow I felt mad about that and left, calling him a "bastard" silently under my breath, or so I thought! The next day when I went over he asked if I knew what the word "bastard" meant, oh boy I was so embarrassed I wanted the ground to swallow me up, all I can remember was stuttering and stammering, I had no idea he heard me, he was damn well on the other side of the field, I swear he had bionic ears! I never went back after that, other than to steal a model he had in the garage I wanted, a metal model from Germany of an automobile engine with a plastic case, not much survived the years yet I still to this day have two or three of the metal pistons. Sometime around this time I learned there really was no Santa Claus, no tooth fairy, no boogie man or sand man, I found out by accident one Christmas when I had the idea of sneaking down to the living room and capturing an elf and instead saw my parents... that explained the cookies and milk, it was mother who drank milk by the quart... I remember feeling very angry that I had been as I viewed it, "duped" and lied to and it hurt terribly,, not to mention the fact that I was disillusioned after that about anything people told me. I had taken things people told me for granted and believed what I was told, never imagining that anyone would lie to me or their motives but I think around then I started to lose faith in people as I didn't like being lied to and began to doubt much of what I was told. One thing that irritated me well actually two things was being tickled and being scared by bugs. Mother loved to do both, tickling me till I screamed to stop it, and pretending to have a spider or other insect in her closed hand and chasing me around the house until I was in tears. It was a game to her but it was terror for me, as a result even today I have a phobia of insects, bugs, flying things. It wasn't until a year before her death that I confronted her with this and she apologized, saying she didn't know and why didn't I say something then. I did back then, but it didn't do any good her apology meant nothing to me, the damage and dislike that was there was too deeply engrained to change and she went to her grave never really knowing how I truly felt about her. I did used to have an enormous collection of stuffed animals, with almost all of them winding up in my bed, I had stuffed snakes, teddy bears, all kinds of animals including alligators too. I even made an automotive crankshaft a play toy to take to bed like the stuffed animals! With the coming Easter, somewhere around 1968 or so, Mother took me to St. Patrick's Cathedral on 5th avenue one sunny day, we drove in from long island and we were also going to visit father at the restaurant and eat dinner, so we were formally attired for the occasion. We entered the Cathedrals' front doors, there were a few people around and mother was talking to some of them out by the front entrance while I wandered up to the back of the building towards the altar, admiring the sculptures and the like along the wall in the alcoves. I was looking at one when a tall young man approached me, he had dark hair and he was probably in his early 30s. Dressed in black I recognized the fact that he was connected to the church probably as a layperson or accolade, not the main priest. He spoke to me about the sculpture and then invited me to sit in the adjacent pew with him, we sat in the pew, I sat on his right and his hand was still holding mine in his, he stroked my hand gently and with interest. I was pretty shy and looked ahead towards the altar something made me look to my left, suddenly I saw he had his pants unzipped and had his penis out and had my hand wrapped around it I had thought it was his finger or thumb till that point. I yelled and jumped up and ran out of the pew hitting my head on the wooden bar at the end of the pew as I ducked under it on my way out the wrong end of the pew, I ran to the front of the Church where mother was and told her, she went looking for the man but he vanished out a door in the back never to be found or seen again. mother took me to my sisters' apartment on West 73rd st. and I remember how dirty my hand felt, I kept washing it over and over again and my sister tried talking to me about the incident We sold that house in 1968 and moved to Daytona Beach Florida, I hated it, another uprooting, new school, friends and lifestyle. We vacationed in Daytona beach every summer so it wasn't foreign to me, however I didn't want to LIVE there, it also meant giving up my go-kart which I enjoyed and had paid in part for. Eventually we settled in and father opened up a restaurant with a partner, I liked going to the restaurant with dad, sometimes I did dishes and hanged around the cooks, one cook named John was either a prankster or disturbed, he told me that if one stuck a straw up the anus of one of those big bull frogs in the parking lot and blew air in, and then tossed the frog up in the air, he would explode upon impact with the pavement. Well that intrigued me cause I tried it, must have ruined half a dozen frogs that way.... I felt kind of stupid too, but then, I was eight so I believed what adults told me I suppose, and trusted them. One friend named Scott, asked me to hold his antique typewriter for him for some reason, I decided I wanted that typewriter so when he asked for it back I told him I took it apart and it was gone haha, a fight ensued between us, with mother breaking it up and my giving the machine back to him... He and his father collected a lot of stuff, coins and the like, I was pretty naive then, we did a trade, I traded some coins I had for some of his "military war bullets", the 3-1/2 inch long shells were actually live ammunition! we traded for those and some now I guess worthless coins from Bermuda, I got even one day by going into his dads' closet shoebox and stealing his antique silver pocket watch. Some time during this one years' stay at this house, Scott and some friends and I found a magazine belonging to mother, the stage magazine for the Broadway show "Oh Calcutta" complete with pictures, the magazine quickly fell into pieces as various preadolescent boys yanked out pages to take home, when mother came home and found out later, she had me call my friends over, she was furious, I remember the slap to my face in front of my friends that she gave me for tearing up her magazine, it was embarrassing to say the least, and that was all I can remember of that incident. I do remember having sex with a 13 year old boy down the street and the boy next door, it was fun, with David, the 13 year old, we had anal sex with him on me, mutual masturbation and that was about the extent of it. Some time during this time period, my sister came for a visit, she brought the German Shepherd puppy she acquired from an animal shelter, his name was "Damien", I do remember taking him for walks and feeling his sheath and penis, I asked my sister when he would "grow up" and I knew I was asking about sexually, even at that age I knew he was sexually immature and a little about how a penis worked, I was curious about how much a dog felt and how his penis worked and compared to my own, but I was pretty inept and never elicited any serious response from him sexually until a few years later when I was in my teens. Some time along 1970 the restaurant went bankrupt and we were to move to New York City, again with the uprooting and moving, new school, environment and friends, I really hated that. We arrived in the city and were to live at a friends apartment at 34th st. and Park ave while we found one of our own, we were there maybe two or three months during the winter, I attended the local public school and hated that place and learned what playing hooky was. We then moved to another place downtown for a couple of weeks, Hotel Van Rensellair it was called, a dumpy hotel in Greenwich village and then on to what would be our apartment on University place for the next 23 years, while I lived there until I moved out in 1981, I was 21 and the parting was most unpleasant Mother wanted me to stay, but I was 21 years old and we had a one bedroom apartment, no privacy and I didn't really like her, nor living there. We had arguments, father would come to my loft and beg me to call her or visit her because she was giving him a hard time, she even came to my loft on the pretext of bringing me clothes I left behind and she tried to break my television set, I actually had to call the police to have her removed! She wouldn't leave until I gave my father an old hallway type sofa she had wanted to have thrown away, I had taken the sofa to my place some months earlier instead of throwing it away, I gave that to them and she promptly had father smash it up downstairs in the loading dock.... Eventually I went for visits about once a week or so, and we because sort of friends, but the feelings of son/mother were simply not there for me at all. But I'm getting ahead of myself here, going back to the main time frame continues the early 1970s Spring 1972 I was twelve, attending public school on 6th avenue, I hated school, it was dull, hated the interaction with other kids, the rigid schedules etc. I also liked to tease one girl in particular, Madellain, some of the boys and I liked to call her "Madell-ax the battle-ax" one day she told me she would be my girl-friend if I stopped teasing her, I thought ok, I'll go for that. I was so shy of girls I would not approach them at all, but that began a friendship that would last about three or four years I suppose. We went places together, and said one day we'd get married, we would make out where ever we could, sometimes behind a display wall at the American Museum of Natural History on the upper west side of Manhattan, the scent of pine from the forest displays was rather strong, it's a scent that often brings back memories of that time, a time of carefree laid back existence, no bills or serious problems. Other places we went to included my parents' apartment when they were gone, the stairwell, and a couple of local buildings by Washington Square Park that had a small alcove under the stoops, we would always feel funny about going down there, and to cover our feelings we'd make a show of pretending to be visiting someone there, "Uncle George" or some other equally realistic sounding name in case a student or passerby were in demand "where are you two going?" We never did go all the way, it was always just kissing, petting and cunnilingus, neither of us knew anything about how the other sex worked, I hadn't a clue how to even have intercourse, but we both knew about pregnancy, but not how to prevent it other than not having intercourse. I don't even think we knew about condoms, spermacides or any of that stuff. I knew her father was Greek, and I bet he could be a pretty tough guy, so I suppose I was a little afraid of what he might do if we were ever caught. Madellain was the kind of girl who always wanted money, it was always the same story "my brother took my ten dollars" "I need five dollars" "I need ten dollars" I need, I want, I need, I want, it never ended, I was always buying things or giving her cash, one day when she was supposedly going to get naked in the bedroom while I waited in the living-room, I cracked the door open a hair and saw her stealing money out of my dad's cash box. I threw her out and told her not to come back. Not long afterwards while talking to my dad in the living-room one afternoon, a knock on the door came, it was her... I told her through the door to get lost, that I caught her taking that money and wanted nothing to do with her again. Madellain was not very attractive, and she was a real Tom- boy, something I didn't particularly care for. She always had scrapes and injuries from sports encounters and later put on weight, eventually we just sort of drifted apart to our respective interests and other friends and eventually we never saw one another again. Where the Mulligons wound up I never knew, it was something I wonder about now and then. She was the only "real" girl friend I had, and the only one, as I never cared to look for another one after we broke up. Summer of 1973 I spent in Florida living with grandma, and went to school there and had a newspaper route, Grandma and I got along ok, but I wasn't happy there and I'm sure she wasn't thrilled either, especially when I went with some friends and we found a mannequin in an open carport down the road and took the hands off it, of course someone called MY grandma and I got into trouble and had to return the one I had. And in school I had a girl pass a note to me that she wanted to be my girl friend, Jennifer Tide was her name, a boyish girl who was not very attractive. She wanted to have sex with me but I hadn't the faintest idea HOW, and she wanted to do it standing up in the Library of all places! I managed to convince her to go to the men's room instead, well she did kind of look like a boy... we tried sex standing up and gave up, I was completely clueless about female anatomy. In school I was teased by other boys and being hit by spitballs, I ignored them, that was, until I came in a bad mood one morning and the one damn asshole was shooting spit-balls at me, and I had enough, I exploded.... I picked up my desk/chair unit combo and threw it across the room at him, I mainly remember the look of surprise and fear on his face as the desk flew towards him, lucky for him my aim was a little off and the desk hit his desk instead of him. I stormed out amidst the teach yelling for me to come back, I left the school grounds and went home. Odd I can't recall what if anything happened after that. Back in New York City again, and a stint at a Catholic school which I really hated, and at the Van Rensallair hotel I had a science book and decided there was no God, no grand creator to be worshiped, it was all just more lies like when I learned there really wasn't a tooth fairy, Santa claus, Easter bunny or any of those things I was duped into believing were real but later discovered were fakes, so "God" was just another character that in this case the science book disproved for me. My Father tried to convince me otherwise, but I was adamant, he even tried having the pastor talk to me, however once I made up my mind there was no changing it. I really disliked the nuns and their line of religious garbage, being forced to attend the mass and at a previous catholic school - acting as altar boy. I started to get into minor trouble. One kid in the desk ahead of me was teasing me and I emptied the contents of my fountain pen on his starch white uniform shirt and tie, one girl also decided I was fair game for teasing and abuse, it was apparent that her mother taught her little boys won't hit girls, but she quickly discovered I had no such qualms, her crotch told her the message when the hard pointed tip on my patent leather shoe crashed into it with as much force as a 12 year old boy could throw into it. She got the message and left me alone after that. Report cards came, and I was not passing, however, the mother superior passed me only after much pleading on the part of my parents I guess. This was about the time one of our cats had kittens, I thought of them as animated play things I guess, and put the bunch of them into a large salad bowl on top of the stereo and turned it on, spinning it for a while and making the kittens dizzy, I thought it was funny how they appeared drunk when set on the floor later. Something went wrong though, and two or more just died from unknown cause, I was panicked! I even tried moth to nose resuscitation and it failed, what was I going to do now!? I hid them behind the radiator enclosure all I know is that the Tom cat apparently found them, dragged them out and partly eviscerated them. My father woke the next day and then I awoke, he wouldn't let me into the living room, telling me that the cat had cannibalized the kittens and it was something he didn't want me to see, but I went anyway, the cat had torn the dead kittens up and I was the one who caused it all... Father took the Tom cat and dumped him on the street and I was there, watching and wracked with guilt because I said nothing, but I was afraid I'd get into trouble, yet, in all my life the man had never laid a hand on me not once. I went back later to the street where we left the cat and he was gone. While I wasn't fond of cats, I didn't want to kill them it just happened. This must have been the year that my parents got into a huge fight, which wasn't unusual, they were always fighting, with mother always being the aggressor, smashing glassware, dishes, furniture... one day I came home from school and she was obviously zonked out on the many pill she took for her ailments, demerol, sleeping pills etc. she tried to get me to eat a handful of sleeping pills and when I refused she said "ok we'll do it the hard way" and pulled out from under the bed a large pipe wrench, it was mine... I ran into the bathroom and locked the door, I was terrified of her! eventually she gave up and father came home, I told him what happened. The next thing I remember was that she was committed to a mental hospital for a number of months. I remember visiting only once and I didn't want to go, nor was I thrilled with any thoughts of her ever coming back home again. I guess now 23 years later looking back, it was the violation of trust with her actions trying to kill me, I suppose that was the turning point in our son/mother relationship because I decided I hated her and didn't want anything to do with her. Father and I did quite well, he worked all night, I kept the apartment clean, painted the kitchen and bathroom, installed linoleum tiles in the dining area and kitchen and washed the windows inside and out, and for the first time ever, I opened the drapes mother kept closed to keep the university students across the street from "looking in", and let the small amount of sun that could, come in, it felt pretty good all around, like I was an adult on my own, which in large sense is what was the case- I was left on my own, with money for what ever I needed and little supervision. The joy was short lived though, as the day came when "she" would return, I dreaded it and desperately wanted her to stay in the hospital, I wanted nothing to do with her but it was not my choice and father would not divorce her either. After her return I went to live with my sister at her W73rd st. apartment for a few days or so, going to school at the public school up there, again uprooted. When I did go back to my parents apartment I spent more and more time by myself, prowling the streets of the city in search of buildings that I could get things from, it was an odd passion, having always been fascinated by construction and demolition, I had been in a number of buildings under construction, and I was caught a few times, the last time by a security dude- I was so scared I was crying! it was partly an act and I guess I scared the men so much they let me leave, I never went into a building being constructed again after that. Coming back from summer camp in 1973 I guess started the ball rolling to the demolition of buildings fascination, it was August 13, and I was thirteen at the time when Mario and I found a building on Broadway and Waverly place being demolished to make way for a large apartment house, I loved it, going into all the deserted rooms and basements, boiler rooms etc. and I grabbed anything "neat" that wasn't welded down, hinges, fire alarm boxes, fancy brass work, plaques and gauges from the boilers and anything else that struck my fancy, they all came home with me. We went back every day after the workmen left, trying to find more, anything, one day a police man grabbed us and took us home to our parents, ma was sleeping, dad smooth talked him and that took care of it, but we did get Juvenile delinquent cards...a police record. Eventually the last of the building was gone and the excavation commenced, I loved watching the pile driver at work, driving huge steel "I" beams into the earth two stories down, "chih, boom, chih, boom, chih, boom" it went, with the compressed air being released at the top stroke, and then the steel would hit solid rock and the iron hammer block would bounce up and down faster and faster and then stop, it was great fun and I captured much on Polaroid. eventually they brought in a huge 300 foot crane and set it up, eyeing the top of that crane, I really had a burning desire to climb to the top. Night after night I almost did it, but was mindful of the security guy, I would surely be spotted, so I didn't do it. By then I was searching all over the city for more buildings, it became an obsession, a rather odd one for a thirteen, fourteen year old boy. Many a times I would be in a building and see a police cruiser pull up outside, loud speaker blaring, telling me to come out, but I never did because they almost never came into the buildings due to the safety factor, or I could hide out or even go to the roof and over several buildings. It was a constant game of hide and seek, someone would call them because of noise or seeing me, some blocks were very tolerant and never bothered me even when I was on fire escapes with a ten pound sledge hammer pounding on the brick walls over the windows trying to remove a keystone, gargoyle or some other clay decoration. Bricks would be falling all over the sidewalk! In the summer of 1975 I was fifteen, I had not only half our living room filled with about five van loads of stuff, but my dads' basement at his bar, it was 24 feet by 100 feet and crammed full ,I was bringing in a few hundred pounds more every day! One afternoon I decided to call on the owner of an old wood working shop, Ernest Parent the sign on the door said, I was going to hire him to make a wooden block as a pseudo capitol form, for mounting some of the cast iron leaves I removed off a cast iron column. Mr. Parent was 86 and lived in the back of the old store, it was a trip back to the 50s at least. I liked it there! We never did get that capitol made, but we fast became friends, and in a large way solved each others' problem. His was money for the rent which was due and he was about to be evicted, and mine was one of space. Ernest offered me some space in the basement, I offered him $100 a month and he gave me the key to his shop and said any time I wanted to, come in, fix a sandwich, what ever, if he was sleeping. He tended to sleep during the day and he was nearly stone deaf even with a hearing aid. I rapidly filled the allotted space and then started stashing things all over the store under furniture and anywhere else, the last straw I guess was when I brought in a player piano...We had a "discussion" about it all and I offered him more money which he accepted. Ernest had a dog in the store, a sort of a yellow lab crossed with German Shepherd maybe, chained behind the counter. Phoebe, which was her name was a mean dog who took opportunistic bites if you walked by her close enough that she could nail you. And yes, she nailed me once and it really made me angry, I felt rejected, I hated that dog by now and I retaliated by beating her with my hands, fists, or a piece of wood, all the pent up anger hate and rage I was feeling about anything and everything came out on that dog, a couple of times that happened. Then something changed, maybe it was the display of her fear of me and my suddenly feeling a deep sense of remorse and guilt, and compassion it deeply saddened me. What had I done? what was I doing to her? I got down on the floor by her and put my arms around her and held her and petted her for over an hour, she licked the tears off my cheeks, I couldn't believe it, there I was just minutes before beating the hell of her and she was now licking my face. It had a profound effect on me, I began to realize that dogs truly had a capacity to love and forgive. We soon became friends, just like that. Eventually I explored her body, I had previously only played with male dogs, Phoebe was spayed and we never did have intercourse or anything but I did discover she liked to be fingered and responded quite erotically to it while I masturbated, she liked to lick my penis at the same time and we shared a closeness and non verbal communication I hadn't experienced before. One afternoon in the spring of 1976, a year after meeting Mr. Parent I went to the store and discovered he had collapsed and died on the commode of all places, it was my first experience with the death of a friend and actually finding someone dead. Through the subsequent events, and his family coming to auction off the contents, I had to move all my stuff now, so father and I moved my things to the basement under his bar. After the auction I was about to leave for the evening when three or four men came in with guns and corralled all of us into the back room that was Mr. Parents' bedroom, tied us up and put guns to the backs of our head and said they'd better find the money or someone will get "hit" I was so terrified I was literally shaking, but they found the money and left. The family went back to Canada, and Phoebe went with one of them back to California and I went on with the grieving process that no one taught me how to cope with, and I didn't know how to cope with, it took quite a while to work through that but after a few months I let it go. Sometime around then I teemed up with a guy who had a car, he saw me removing paint off a stone carving in the park, and he had a similar fascination and also a love of money, I abhorred money and never wanted to sell any of my pieces. We became friends and used his Plymouth Fury 111 as a truck, hauling heavy stone carvings and things on the roof even, we cruised Manhattan, Brooklyn, and the Bronx every single morning starting at about 4:00 AM. We eventually had it down to an art, where we would cruise during the day, make plans, go to specific buildings at 4 AM or earlier, and remove all the wood work and inside bricks from behind the keystones and other exterior sculptures, and then leave, and come back the next morning at 4 AM and one, two, three, four just pop them out in a few minutes as all the prep work had been done the day before. We divided up the goodies and took our treasures to our respective storage places. Eventually Bill moved from his apartment to another one and I rented his old one for storage! trouble was, it was on the fifth floor of a seven story walk-up, even so, I managed to haul up some ten thousand pounds of stuff, I was bringing more up when the daughter of the old couple underneath me came up and saw all the stuff piled in, she expressed consternation that the floor, which was in effect her parents' ceiling... would collapse on them. I knew it wouldn't because I knew about floor loads and the fact that those old tenement houses used rough cut lumber about 3 inches thick and 10 inches deep, spaced about 18 inches apart, you could drive a truck on those floors they were so overbuilt. Nevertheless, the woman was trouble, it meant I would have to move all that stuff. I found a commercial building some 3/4 of a mile away, the nine story "Cable Building" as it said on the 1892 portico, it was a half block in size and was the former power plant for the Broadway and Housten street, cable car lines I later discovered. Plunking down my $65 rent for a dark storage room on the ninth floor, dad had to sign the lease as I was under age... I spent about two weeks hauling things from the apartment, down 5 floors, push cart the 15 or so blocks, up in the elevator, up three steps and around, down four steps, it was a nightmare but it was done. Back to scouting the city I went, hardly missing a beat. One day I was bike scouting in Harlem, around 110th street, when I saw a dog, a shepherd type dog in an abandoned building in one of the windows looking around. I parked my bike and chained it to a lamp post and chained the front wheel to the frame and went into the building and upstairs to the floor where I saw the dog, he came running up to me, quite friendly and happy to have found a human companion. I talked to him and petted him, he was clean and in healthy condition, yes, it was a male dog! Just like with my sister's dog Damien I reached down and fondled his sheath and masturbated him, his bulbous glandis grew to a considerable size which sort of prevented further movement of my hand so I just squeezed, suddenly he ejaculated on my shoes, so that's it! By accident I learned how to make a dog ejaculate, I had been doing it wrong with Damien and was never really able to get him very excited, I guess I figured a male was a male and the penis worked the same in all males, it was hard to imagine there would be any functional or physical differences other than outward appearance. By now the dog had me so excited I quickly ejaculated on the floor. I zipped up and petted the dog a bit, wishing I could take him home, but living with my parents in an apartment with cats was not very conductive to having a dog, no, this would have to be a one time encounter of two ships passing in the night, we were two raw males, different species but male nonetheless, and we had just satisfied each others basic needs and felt good. True, it wasn't a very romantic place, the third floor of an abandoned building in harem, with trash and junk all around, broken windows and of course the possibility and fear that someone, anyone might walk in unexpectedly upon us. Regaining composure I left , down the stairs and out the broken but chained shut front doors. There was a note on the door I had seen, it concerned the dog, I recall it was a kind of "dog found" poster and apparently whom ever found him put him in the building and chained the doors shut, that the doors had no glass but it was enough to keep a dog inside I suppose. It felt good, and the dog obviously enjoyed the encounter, this was the early years in which I started to discover more about sex, dogs and life in general. Biking home I thought about the dog and how he probably wouldn't survive very long on the streets I was helpless to do anything at all. I still had encounters with a gay friend named Vance about once a week or so he came over or we went some place and he gave me oral sex, very rarely I reciprocated, it was just a friendship and sex, he was a couple of years older than I was 8and I had no interest in romance or a relationship, in fact in our ten ye8ars friendship I had never been to his place, nor did I know very much about him. I was quite easy to be picked up for this kind of sex and I guessed I had been picked up by maybe a dozen guys, thankfully I never picked up anything nor were there any problems. One pedophile worked in a news stand/magazine store near my school, Jerry Andrews lived in the hotel down the block, he was a friendly harmless looking guy with glasses. Somehow we got into a conversation after I got the paper and he made a pass at me which I accepted, later after he got off work we went to his hotel room, it was just basic sex to me as I had virtually no interest in him for anything else. He gave me oral sex twice in a row and a little while later I left. Occasionally I visited Jerry when I was near his hotel, until one day there was a fire in the hotel and he moved out, I never saw him again after that. I also had a friend named Mario, and we occasionally had a little bit of sex. There were a bunch of others like Jerry in my teens, ranging in age from my friends the same age, to one in his late 70s. I was never interested in any of them for any more than just getting oral sex, though I felt I had gay tendencies I wasn't gay, but I also wasn't straight, what was I? I just figured I was bi-sexual but I also found male dogs extremely erotic and exciting, that's it, i was tri-sexual I guessed, actually I didn't care what I was called, I just liked sex. I never ever propositioned anyone else, by making the first move or using a pick up line, I was far too shy and embarassed, as well as self conscious and inhibited to ever consider that, no, I always let myself be picked up so to speak., by letting them approach me and ask. Actually it was kind of nice because I could reject them if I was so inclined, or not, it was my decision. I guess I liked that better too, no chance I would be rebuffed or rejected, no awkward one liners or pick up phraises. Were it not for these others appoaching me first, I fully suspect I would never have had sex at all with other humans, not boys, and not the couple of girls either, because they all approached me. I continued to search for and go into more and more abandoned buildings and those being demolished it was fun, I liked it, prowling the streets at 4 am can be exciting, I was also quite fearless. One 32 story high building on wall street had demolition scaffolding around it I knew there would be a security dude to watch the tools and equipment so I decided to climb up on the outside of the building! At about 3 am I locked my bike to a post down stairs and just like that I started the climb. Resting a few times I eventually got to the wood platform around the 30th floor and had to climb around and up over it, pretty hairy when its 3 am and you're 30 floors up on a pipe scaffold! I sat on the platform for a while and looked down at the street 30 floors below and imagined what it would be like to fall by accident, the thought sent chills down my spine thinking of the sheer terror of falling and knowing with complete certainty, no ifs, ands or buts that you were going to die, I gripped the rails pretty tightly and continued up and then inside the building, I saw a few sculptures, one that was at least six feet tall still in the wall and some smaller things, I found a square tablet under the window and started chipping at the bricks around it, the bells tolled every hour on the Church down the block until it was daylight, it would be several hours before I got the sculpture out and took it down stairs crossing the empty lot towards my bike I heard a voice behind me... "Excuse me, can I help you?" Turning around Randall saw a uniformed security guard "Sure, grab an end of this" "Ah, you can't take that out of here, if you want to come back tomorrow when the boss is here you can talk to him about it" "Oh, ok, I'll come back tomorrow then" Putting the sculpture down in the rubble of the lot, Randall walked out and rode home, planning to come back at 3 am again and just take the thing he worked for so many hours to get, no damn security guard was going to tell him anything he thought. I went back at 3 am the next morning and just searched the lot where I left the piece, found it and took it home, I earned that one. There was a hotel opposite Grand Central Terminal that was likewise to be demolished, but only to it's metal skeleton, it was some 25 stories high and likewise I climbed up the outside. I sat on the wood platform at the top and looked out over the terminal and the city below and beyond. It was an odd feeling that is difficult to put into words, the darkness and quiet the only noise being ventilator fans of some kind in the distance. I was in a huge pitch dark building 25 floors up on a scaffold at 3 am all by myself, looking out over the sleeping cityscape, the other buildings being dark outlines, the only light being the reflected city lights bouncing back from the sky and clouds I supposed, Grand Central Terminal was closed for the night and pitch dark, the huge stone victory sculpture group over the front entrance below was dwarfed by the height I was viewing it from, a view I'd never seen them by before. If I could have gotten that whole group I would have hehe. I went out all over the city in search of buildings to get things from, and with my friend Bill, and with his car we went all over the city together. We had met in the park, I had a sculpture I was removing the paint from and he wanted to come along on one of my excursions, that was the start of a major change, now I had wheels and help! CHAPTER TWO One day after school I simply decided I was not going to go back again, I was in the 10th grade and I hated it, the subjects were stupid too and I didn't care to be there, I saw virtually no use to the line up which consisted of; typing, spanish, math, Physical Ed. lunch, and english...I didn't have friends and didn't fit in. One teacher actually called me into an empty classroom and gave me a bag... I couldn't believe it, the bag contained hand cream and gloves and she was trying to get me to use this shit because my hands had calluses on them from all the rough things I did in demolished buildings tearing out brick work etc. I couldn't believe this complete stranger was telling me how to conduct personal hygiene or something. I was pretty irritated and insulted. After school I tossed the damn bag and stuff in the trash can. Some weeks and weeks later the truant officers came to the apartment while I was out and asked mother why I wasn't in school. Instead of going to school I spent the day during the decent weather out grabbing more things off buildings and the bad days I spent at the library reading books. That was where I found a book on human sexuality by Masters and Johnson, I found references to bestiality and it was so exciting. I remember the graphs and charts showing canine orgasms compared to human male and female, and I could see that dogs had multiple orgasms like women, and the same physiological reactions during intercourse and orgasm it was very erotic and exciting. I was pretty shy about being seen with a sex book so it was awkward being in a public place with such a book. I found the text erotic and stimulating, in a way it was like pornogaphy to me, being able to read something about dogs having sex was exciting. Like clock work I went home each day at exactly 3 PM, this particular day would be different though since mother had found out I was never in school, and she was purple. Walking into the apartment she was waiting for me when I entered the room. "Hi Randall, how was school today?" "Mmm ok" " Is'nt that interesting, I had a visitor today'" "A visitor?" "A truant officer came here today and told me you haven't been in school for WEEKS! I WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON AND WHERE THE HELL YOU"VE BEEN ALL DAY!!!" "I haven't been going cause I hate it, and I've had nothing but trouble, kids bringing in knives, tear gas and all kinds of shit, and I've been mugged lots of time and I'm not going back" A whole scene started around that, culminating in her dragging my mattress off the bed and onto the living room floor and telling me to get in bed and stay there, it was four o'clock in the afternoon. I never really had any privacy at that apartment, three people in a two room one bedroom apartment and I hated it, I hated her damn TV and her damn air-conditioner she had to have for noise to sleep at night, her damn glass of milk and her damn eye glasses she was forever losing and telling me to find. It was a very stressful time for all of us, and very stressful living conditions compared to what we were used to, for I always had my own room untill then we moved to the city. My dad was more rational, what ever I wanted was fine with him, He was not thrilled and he naturally was concerned, but I made my decision and he was not going to force me. We went together to the school and he signed the forms that would release me from school permanently I was 16 and I made up my mind that I wasn't going back to that school in the slum of the lower east side, or any other one. Continuing to prowl the city, now more so with Bill, we hit the Bronx, Brooklyn, Harem, Lower east side bringing back several hundred pounds of things each every day seven days a week! I had to get bigger places to store this stuff in and by now I had the entire basement of my dads bar filling up, and the Cable building loft, now I had to get a second loft there, this one was $165 a month on top of the $65 or so I was paying for the first one. It was tough coming up with that every month plus the jacked up electric bills, but I got a Saturday job there as the night man midnight to eight for $6.50 an hour. In no time at all I had huge shelf units built around all four walls to the ceiling using the old growth floor joists I salvaged and soon had that loft filled up too, it was about 24 feet by 35 feet. One day the landlord came in and told me I had too much weight on the floor and will have to get a larger room, yeah right, bullshit! Engineering and mechanical construction was a pseudo special with me, I carefully calculated the floor loads based on what the signage on the wall in the coridors stated was the allowed limit - "200 pounds per square foot", there was no overload of the floor in my loft, but again with the bullshit and I was powerless and helpless to do anything about it, he had me by the balls. So I took a 1,000 square foot loft on the 7th floor and moved everything to it from the two smaller lofts, now I was paying $325 a month and feeling the pressure. I was also working part time there Saturdays, part time at my dads bar 7 days a week cleaning, and full time at a sculpture studio. Eventually I needed still more room and rented one then two small 100 square foot storage rooms for $70 each. That was a lot for an 18 year old kid... I guess I was rather obsessive about this all, I took personal and legal risks daily, and was arrested five times before age 18 but released every time, charges dismissed etc. The last time was when I got on my bike and went downtown, intent on taking one of those old city fire alarm boxes off the lamppost, I already had one but wanted another one. As I rode against the warm night air to the street I went to earlier I got off my bike and looked around, not a soul in site... it was a ghost town around wall st. at three o'clock in the moning I cut the three metal bands that held the box to the post, and the wires, suddenly a taxi cab careened towards me stopped and two guys got out shouting that they were the police! I dropped the alarm box and got on my bike and took off, with them following. It was a fight to escape I turned down one street and the next hoping to lose them but I came upon a road that went down to the Holland tunnel exit/entrance ramps, I had a choice tunnel or not I chose the tunnel rationalizing Id come out in New Jersey bike the ten miles or so to the George Washington bridge and ten miles back home. Turning into the tunnels exit ramp I almost got hit by a truck, I got half way through the tunnel to New Jersey when I saw a policeman on a wall situated maintenance track in a cart that went about 20 MPH yelling at me to stop or he'd blow my head off, I didn't, then a patrol car came careening down the two lane tunnel and jammed on their brakes and slid sideways, I turned back for Manhattan and there was a line of cops at the end of the tunnel and I was taken in. That's the kind of risks I did I suppose, cat and mouse. Father knew because he bailed me out each time, and helped keep this from mother, we explained away my 2 day absence by saying I had permission and someone made a mistake, she fell for that every time! One day in a building on Stanton street on the lower east side in a block that had about eight abandoned buildings and there were only about eight buildings left ...I was working in one building and discovered a dog, actually a pack of them, the one dog was quite friendly, a kind of a German Shepherd cross. I checked and yes, it was a male dog and just touching him made me excited, it was an electric sensation. I guess I aroused him when I touched his sheath and testicles because suddenly he tried to mount me! This dog wanted sex and he wanted it right then and there, and he was quite adamant and strong. Since he was a clean looking dog, I decided to let him mount me with his paws on my shoulders and I'd give him oral sex. His penis jabbed into the back of my mouth and hurt a little, but he was starting to ejaculate almost immediately I really enjoyed the sensations of this powerful male dog gripping me, telling me he wanted me, and the sensation of his swollen penis being thrust into my mouth. It was a big turn on to feel his ejaculations and also his semen spurting out, I liked the taste too. After he finished I urgently had to masturbate right there on the floor with him and his pack watching wow, it was a really good experience. I wanted to take him home with me, but alas, I could not. I often found such strays in abandoned buildings, almost all were young intact males. One day with Bill up on 129th street I was to sit in the car while he did the work in the building, because we had been busted earlier in the month for going into another building and he didn't want to have me along with him just in case. But while I was sitting I saw a dog enter the buildings' broken out front doors, I decided to go in after him and check him out. This dog too was an intact male, and somewhat horney, I only masturbated him and myself as he wasn't very clean. He too enjoyed the fun we shared. Mother became more and more weird over the years but then kind of mellowed out later, I was now about 21 and ready to move out and to my loft, it was commercial space, I had only my sculptures, no real furniture, a small fridge, sink and cold water only. The heat was turned off at 5 PM and was off completely on weekends. Mother and I got into an argument over something and when she was out of the apartment on one of the rare times she ever went out, I got all my stuff and just like that left. That was when, as I wrote about in chapter one, she came to my loft and tried to break my TV set and I called the police and had her escorted out. She never let me forget that, nor did she ever let go of the fact that father "put her" in a mental hospital, and she used that as a weapon every time she got angry. I would always see them fighting, she would break fathers glasses, call him every ten minutes at work to harass him, dump used kitty litter in his bed and pull the covers over it cut the toes off his socks and put them back in the drawer and a myriad of similar little petty revenge annoyances. I never once saw him lay a hand on her, or me for that matter, he always took it or left and went to the lobby or some other place such as a restaurant. Many times I was used as a psychological weapon against him, to lay a guilt trip on him about not having enough money to get Randall some nice clothes (I had plenty) or a bigger apartment so Id have my own room, or.... it was always something. I really had enough of her and her bullshit, and the lack of privacy. I wanted my freedom and just like that I left, I was very happy. For Months she begged me to come back "for just a year", but damn it, I was fucking twenty one years old and I sure as hell didn't want to be living with "mommy", I was not going back no matter what and no matter how much my father begged. I would get calls from him telling me she was making his life miserable, and again, she was using me as a weapon, probably telling him my leaving was all his fault. Father and I still got together at his bar since I still worked there, we would go to lunch often. My favorite thing during my teens was to walk with him to 6th avenue every night to get the newspaper, it was our special time to be together and talk, away from mother. I could relate my hopes, dreams thoughts and feelings, and things I did during the day. I never went into detail about my roaming the city's abandoned buildings, he knew but it scared him too much with worry. Eventually for various reasons the bar we owned was failing and it was sold, that meant having to move all of my stuff out of the basement to the loft, more rented trucks and pain.. I forgot how many trucks that took, but quite a few. by luck I was able to continue woking there cleaning the place for $20 for the hour it took. Not long after, my father opened another gay bar around the corner in what coincidentally was a dog grooming parlor before! After renovations, it opened, and I now had TWO bars to clean at $20 each per day, so that helped a lot. There was one time when he became seriously involved in a dangerous conflict, Bill and I had removed a sculpture on East 4th st. and put it on a hand truck to bring home, and this lunatic from an illegal "social club" in the basement came after us, he followed us all the way up to about 50th st., we had passed my dad on the way up and I motioned there was a problem and he followed us all the way up, I'm sure with much trepidation. Suddenly Bill had enough of the guy banging his legs with a carved cane he had, and he attacked the guy, next thing I know I saw my father come running up and it was a bru-ha! the four of us, Bill and I took off with the hand truck, we eventually met up with my father at the bar, which at the time was when I was in my teens and using the basement for storage. My father said for Bill to give him the cane he grabbed away from the guy, that he was going to return it to the man. He said the guy told him that he would find me in a building and set fire to the building I was in if he didn't get his cane back. My father had genuine panic at that stage, I don't think I had seen him that way before or after it was all over. I lived in that 7th floor loft for a year, and working part time there too, winter was brutal. The first winter living there full time, it got down in to the single digits, it was about 38 degrees in my place because brick and stone buildings with no insulation, plus the fact that I had six almost floor to ceiling windows didn't help. I suffered it out as best I could, and even added an antique wood stove with the pipe going out the window, highly illegal but... I burned scraps of wood, paper, cardboard, old wire with the insulation on it, anything that burned. During my shift during days like that, I would go down into the boiler room and turn the two massive boilers on, they used a massive amount of oil but I didn't care. As I recall it was 500 gallons an hour at full steam ahead, but I was cold and the damn building was a refrigerator. A year went by and summer came, with it, it brought a bill... I opened the envelope and was speechless! "Dear tenant, this is to inform you that "Cable Estates" has been sold and is under new management, therefore at the end of your lease next month, Your new rental fee will increase to $656.00, we will require an additional security deposit in the amount of $331.00, plus one month ($656.00) for a total due of $987.00 by the 31st..." The letter continued, I was pissed and upset, where the fuck was I going to get a thousand bucks in four weeks???1 somehow with my father we managed to scrape up the funds. I stayed there one year, working three jobs just to pay the rent, I saw an ad in the paper one day for a live-in two story loft in Brooklyn, for $650 a month with a 5 year lease. I went to check it out and it was pretty depressing, completely raw commercial space, paint peeling, broken everything windows gone, but I had little choice In early 1992 I moved to Brooklyn, Park Slope was the name given to the neighborhood, a neighborhood that was all black, at times it seemed I was the only white guy around! The large Pechters commercial bakery loomed outside my windows to the north, the scents of baked goods permeated the air at times. My employer also moved from Manhattan to Brooklyn, just weeks after I did and just 5 miles distant, but until he did it meant a several miles trip via bike over the Brooklyn bridge every day to get to work, and then on Fridays and week ends cleaning two bars way uptown, they were 2 miles further north. I hired a guy with a truck to help me move and he stole my sterio... but in any case it took 14 24 foot u-haul trucks to do the move. The loft was in a former commercial bakery building, I had rented two floors, the fifth and sixth floors in the six story building. The fifth floor was about twenty five feet wide and one hundred feet long, the sixth floor was fifty feet long and opened to the fifth floor. A stairway went from one to the other. It was raw commercial space, my rent was $650 a month and I was working one full time job and two part time jobs plus acting as the superintendent later, that was FOUR jobs! I set about renovating to make it liveable, what ever extra money I had went into plasterboard and materials. I had both floors filled with almost one hundred thousand pounds of sculptures which made moving around and doing things difficult, eventually I was able to hang much of these on the brick walls, having driven hundreds of spikes to hang them.The oddest set of circumstances for both my boss and I existed, they moved from 221-21st street manhattan to 221 -21st street Brooklyn, while I moved from 621 Broadway to 621 Bergen Street! it was there, in Brooklyn, at work that I was able to talk about my love of dogs face to face with someone for the first time in my life, my boss, and office manager who were gay. Richard was the kind of boss who was really neat, easy to talk to, and a caring person, he and I shared the love of opera and classical music, we talked often about various opera casts, composers and music, much to the chagrin of the other employees who had to tolerate our "classical hour" on the radio in the shop. It was only fair, they had six hours of rock and roll crap, so we deserved at least an hour of OUR music. Richard lived in a nice apartment in manhattan with a younger lover, they were just great folks... One day we were talking while working, and the topic of sex came up as I recall, I can only remember the conversation as it was already developed. "...Naw, not interested in sheep and stuff, just dogs" "dogs?... well what can you do with dogs?" "Well, we can do anything two people can do, I prefer male dogs though.." "When did all this start?" "When?... guess I was about nine, with my sisters' German Shepherd when ever I went up there for vacations and stuff" "What did you do?" "Mainly masturbated him, I didn't know how to do it right then, you don't do it like you would a man, so it was kind of awkward, though he liked it and it turned me on like hell" "What's different than a man?" "Ha, I found this stray in an abandoned building up in Harem and started masturbating him and he suddenly got real hard, the knot swelled up and I wasn't able to jerk very far back and forth, but he ejaculated all over my shoes, something my sisters' dog didn't do till I learned how to do it right. That was when I discovered how to constrict behind the knot" "Did you do any more besides that?" "Yes, well, I played with neighbors and friends' dogs when they visited my sister with their owners, I gave head to some, those who were clean" "What did it taste like?" "Kind of salty.. thin" "Did you ever get caught?" "No, no one ever knew, I was good at hiding it" The conversation was interrupted by business , Richard had to run downstairs to the office. I went back to work pretty happy to have found a non-judgmental friend I could confide it, it really was a very strange thing I guess, talking about sex with dogs with one of the bosses. At five o'clock when we walked through the door on our way home, walking my bicycle along side Richard we talked more on the subject of bestiality as we walked west on 21st street towards the main thoroughfare two blocks down, and then north two blocks to the subway station where Richard would decend to a waiting train for his apartment in manhattan and I would bike it the twenty or so blocks home. We said goodbyes at the subway stairs. I went home to my private hell hole living space, growing somewhat weary at the raw unfinished mess that was the environment of the entire building, and more specifically my loft in which I had to stare at the unfinished walls and clutter. But there were my dog lovers waiting anxiously for me to arrive, holding the "up" button in on the antiquated open shaft elevator, the car groaned and squeaked up to the fourth floor. I could hear Stanford and Felson barking, it was a good welcome feeling knowing I was wanted by something, that something was glad I was home... Two enthusiastic dogs greeted me, Stanford was a black lab mix about nine years old, my second dog, I had come home from a night at the opera, it was early May , the first time I ever went to Lincoln center by myself, I had a great time after enjoying "Rigolleto" by Verdi, walking into the dark courtyard of my building I suddenly came upon a large black dog, he was friendly, male, and entire! I brought him inside and decided to keep him , he had no collar or tags and was obviously abandoned. I named him "Stanford" after Stanford White, the architect. He was a reluctant dog as far as sex went, at least at first, I suspected it was due to age and treatment, but once he got excited he was a hot dog! I could tell he had been hit and abused through his life, he was hand shy and flinchy, thin and malnourished. His hard life showed... After a time he became a happy mellow dog, forgetting much of his past hurts. Felson was a German Shepherd bitch, spayed by her previous owners , also about nine years old, while the name "Felson" came from the music titled in German; "Der hurt auf dem felson" (The shepherd on the rock) it fit her I thought. I had adopted her from a no kill shelter when there were reports of break-ins in the building, I wanted to find a male shepherd like my sisters, but couldn't find one so I took Felson. This was around the time I was getting into a personal turmoil dealing with my bestial urges, at one point I called sex hot lines and gay switchboards, none of them had anything of any use though the guy at the gay switchboard spent several hours on the phone with me talking to me. The sex information switchboard only had some real basic stuff, such as women can't become pregnant by male dogs, that sort of thing. There were no books or articles, absolutely nothing, even the internet newsgroup and the like didn't exist then. I did find some underground personal contact type magazines, a few that even mentioned interest in bestiality and dogs, all were from women, most were lesbians, some wanted to buy trained dogs or had one to share. I phoned my boss's lover Donald one night though, he was pretty cool and we spent the better part of three hours on the phone. He did provide some addresses to buy magazine with pictures and back then they were legal to import from Denmark and other countries where it is legal even today to sell bestiality magazines. It seems that these magazines were also sold right alongside regular magazines in such places as supermarkets! Imagine the irony of it, we are supposedly so "free" here, and supposedly have the freedom of speech and all that, but it is now illegal to transport or transfer, produce or sell such magazines or pictures, while it is legal in 23 states to have sex with animals go figure that one! While I was curious about the bestiality pictures something was still lacking, I was hungry for knowledge. I couldn't find anyone to talk to, it wasn't guilt feelings or wanting to change myself, I just could not find any information, or anything, I don't know what I wanted to expected really, but I just wanted to read more about this. Perhaps I wanted someone to talk to about the love I felt towards my dogs, and to share experiences and fantasies with. One night I decided make a call to my sister. I decided that I wanted to talk to my sister about my bestiality as I called it then, I had never heard of "zoophiles", nor did I even have a clue as to what this was called. I didn't even know there was a name for something like having sexual relationships with animals, other than the general terminology used to denote the sex act. It was a weekend night when I called, we talked about the usual things, I started to chicken out and was about to wind the call down, and then I started to tell her, this is what I can remember of that. "Sis, one of these days we're going to have to have a brother to sister talk..." "Sounds heavy, want to talk about it?" "Well, it's kind of long, maybe some other time" "Well you know that anytime you want to talk to me I'm here for you, if you want to talk about something" "I know... well... it's.... sexual...." "Well you know, you can also talk to Mike too, we can talk if you want to" "Well, I'm just not sure how to begin or how you'll take it, or what mike would say...well I've gone out with a few guys you know, just for sex, and I had a girlfriend too before... I'm just not that interested in them, at the same time I was also doing other things... I ah, have done a few things with male dogs..." "Ran, it's okay, just enjoy what you feel is best for you. What have you done with dogs? I'm not sure I understand" "I know... well, not to gross you out or anything but I happen to like masturbating dogs and giving them oral sex, I'm not interested in people for sex, it's become dogs only, I even told Vance I didn't want to see him any more. "But Ran, is that enough for you? you have so much to offer a woman, or a guy, I don't care what you do, but is this what you want? are you happy?" "Yes, sis, it's all I need and want, I'm not interested in girls, or guys, both kind of gross me out, the thought of going down on a woman gags me!" "Well you don't have put your mouth on it" "I know, but the interest isn't there, sweat and stuff also grosses me out" "I'm not abusing the dogs, they seem to enjoy it" "Well they go by what feels good" "Well I started quite a while ago, when I was about nine, masturbating your dog Damien, and then when ever I had the chance with your friends' dogs, and strays I found, I do a lot more than just masturbate the dogs, but I don't have any anal contact with them, that's gross" "I just can't seem to find any information or anything on this, I called the gay and lesbian hotlines and stuff and find almost nothing" "Ran, it just is sad for me to see you throw away the good things you can offer, but if it makes you happy that's all I care about, are you sure theres no risks to your health swallowing the dog?" "It does, I don't need anything else, if I have a problem with it someday, you'll be the first to know, no, not that I know of, maybe I can call my vet and ask. I'm just kind of replacing the outgoing hehe" "Well just be careful, you don't know what it might do to you, please find out. I want you to call me if you want or need to talk okay?" "Sure thing sis" We got off the phone later, I felt ok about the conversation, maybe a little disappointed because I hated it when people patronized me by making statements about me, as though I didn't know what I wanted or I don't know what I'm talking about, such as the part about my supposedly "throwing your life away" just because I wasn't interested in women for sex and a relationship, was just such an example. It was my life and my decision to make, and I had made it. I never did like children and as far back as I could remember that was true, and I knew for certain I was not cut out to father children and do the marriage bit. I resented the statement and idea that unless you were married to a woman and had a family you were essentially a non person. I could see how women resent the same kind of inuendos about supposedly needing a man to be complete. It was another day around then that I came out to my father about my sexuality, something we never talked about, I was on the phone with him just talking and simple told him... "Well I kind of have something I wanted to talk to you about..." "what's that son?" "Well, I'm not sure you will react, it' sexual" "Son, just go ahead, nothing bothers me, if there's something wrong or you want to talk, just tell me" "There's nothing wrong, I just kind of wanted to get something off my chest, you know how mom has always asked why don't I get a girlfriend etc. , I'm just not really interested in girls.... or guys, though I've gone out with a few guys just for the physical part, not a relationship, I'm just not into guys either" "Son, as long as you are happy that's all that matters to me" "I am dad.. well, I've gone out with girls, guys, but I also was doing things with male dogs, I just found dogs were exciting and they like it, and no risk of aids etc." "Son, that was something that always concerned me, that you weren't happy, all I care about is that you are happy, I don't care if you sleep with the guys, gals or dogs as long as you are happy" "I am dad" "Whew, well that's a relief, I wasn't sure if you were happy or not and kind of wondered, now I can relax." That was pretty amazing coming from a man who was raised Catholic and married to the same woman for then 40 years in a monogamous relationship! I had told my father and sister, just like that, and they still loved me, I felt great and didn't feel alone. Both my dad and sister knew all the details and completely accepted me, though, with my sister. The call continued for over an hour and again the next night, she did express concern about what she felt was my "throwing my life away" and that I had "so much to offer a woman" but finally relented and accepted the fact that my mind was set. I did get the distinct feeling that she felt this all was just a "Phase" I would outgrow, I knew in my heart it was NOT a phase. It would take her over twelve years to finally resign herself to the fact that this was the core of my being, this is me, it is what I am, who I am, and that I was not going to change... ever. I am her brother... her brother who has romances and sexual relationships with dogs as intense and serious as man and wife. We had never really talked much in detail about this afterwards, but after I had sent her some moving material a few zoo friends wrote, she did say she didn't realize... all this time the pain, hurts and depth of feelings we have for our animals, it took twelve years for that to happen. There was a night in 1982 when I noticed a tumor on Stanfords anus and then One day, I was having sex with Stanford, just hot raw on-the- floor sex, I noticed there was blood in his semen, it was quite startling to say the least! I made an appointment with the veterinarian the next day and walked the five blocks or so to the clinic on Vanderbilt ave, the clinic's street name was amply applied as the costs for this clinic were right up there with the Vanderbilts and the Rockefellers! The Vet himself drove a BMW, I felt ripped off almost every time I went the but it was the only clinic near enough to walk to, few taxi cabs will take a large dog and you cant take a dog on the subway or bus. Thinking of the English and how they allow dogs in restaurants and all else made me angry at the policies and bans on many things here supposedly for "health and sanitation" reasons, bull shit I thought, guide dogs and 4-H puppies are dogs and they go everywhere. Entering the clinic I sat down, worrying about the outcome, the omnipresent posters and junk on the walls, brochures etc. all helped to distract me I guess. There was a woman with a very old male shepherd there, he was sitting and I noticed his penis had slid out of it's sheath and was laying on the floor, it looked big, red and I sure was getting turned on, somehow I had the distinct feeling the woman was having him put down, it was confirmed in my mind when later, I saw her leave by herself, no dog walking at her side. Knowing surgery is done early in the morning I knew he wasn't left for surgery. I felt sad, maybe that was the fate for Stanford soon, I tried not to think about it. The door opened and the doctor motioned for us to come into the clinic area and into an exam room. "Hi Mr. Shepherd, what can we do for you today?" "Hi, well I noticed a tumor on his anus" "Tumor? okay, it sounds like something is going on, lets take a look at his prostate too" The doctor did a digital examination while I held Stanford in a hard grip, he was growling and struggling. I didn't mention the blood in the semen, how could I explain that! "Okay, it seems like Stanford has an enlarged prostate, it's not uncommon in older intact male dogs, I also noticed what we call a perianal gland tumor, again, these tumors are usually benign, we can remove it and castrate him at the same time, these tumors usually are helped along by the male hormones, after castration they don't usually recur" "Well lets remove the tumor but I don't want to castrate him" "How come? it won't change the dogs' personality or make him fat, it's really a simple operation" "I have my reasons" "Ok, schedule an appointment with my receptionist" I went home depressed, this was bad news, that night I called my sister and cried out my story of the days' events, she felt bad for me of course and we talked further about my feelings and attachment to dogs, and sex with them as well. I dropped Stanford off the next morning early and reiterated to the receptionist that he was only there for the tumor removal, and I went to work. Later, the doctor called and again tried to convince me to castrate Stanford and I refused, he continued his speech about the dog not getting fat, lazy or changing his personality. We hung up after he agreed to just remove the tumor, I fretted all day about what if he goes and castrates him anyway. Later in the day I went to pick the old boy up, his back side was shaved a bit, but the tumo was gone- having been replaced with some black sutures along a neatly made incision where it once resided. My sisters' previous urgings to find out about health matters was now about to be looked into. Sometime later or so I mustered up the courage to call my vet and ask, I was really nervous, I couldn't get the doctor directly but I got a male assistant and asked. "I have a question about male dogs I wanted to ask the doctor about" "Well maybe I can help you, what is the question?" "Well it's kind of personal, having to do with sex" "With your dog??" "Yes, I wanted to know what the contents of the dogs semen is" "Contents?" "Yes, I wanted to find out what I was swallowing, if theres anything in it that could be harmful" "I cant answer that, you'll have to ask the doctor, I can have him call you back" "Well I'd rather not give my phone number out, it's a private issue" "Doesn't matter, the doctor will call you back" "Well okay this is Mr. Shepherd, he has my number" An hour or so passed before Doctor Zeitz called. "Hi, this is doctor Zeitz returning your call" "Ah yeah, hi, did your receptionist mention why I called?" "Well he said a little about it, what's the problem?" "I wanted to find out what the contents of the dogs' semen is, if theres anything in it that might be harmful to me having sex with my dog" "Mr. Shepherd, as far as I know theres' nothing in it that can hurt you, but I think you need help for your problem" "I tried, but this is part of who I am, my family doesn't have a problem with it, neither do I, and the dog likes it, I called the gay and lesbian hot lines and stuff" "I still think you need help for your problem" Later on in the week I had to call for an appointment, Stanford still had blood in the semen, walking to the clinic I half expected to see police cars waiting for us! I didn't really believe there would be, there was no proof of my activities in any case. I did later have him neutered, telling the doctor that I cared more about the dogs' health, and that I can do "this" with any male dog, so I made the appointment to have him neutered. Since by now I also told co-workers at the plaster studio where I worked, one of them found a stray dog down the street at lunch time and brought him back to work with him and turned him loose upstairs where I was eating lunch, Miguel said "here, for you, a new wife", they all joked around with me about it in a friendly way and I played along too. Anyway, the dog was a shepherd mixed with some long haired breed and I couldn't at first tell if the dogs' sex, I called the dog over and he was very friendly, I groped and discovered the dog was a male and yes, he was intact, so sure, I decided I'd take him home since he had no collar or I.D. suddenly he tried to mount me and he grasped me with his forelegs and started riding my leg! wow, I wanted to have sex with him right there, but geez I was at work! He sure was turning me on and I couldn't get him down, nor was I trying very hard because I didn't want to discourage him. Then Eddy the other boss came up, he was NOT happy. Eddy was a religeous type, Jewish, and I'm not even sure he liked dogs. He was rather irritated to see the dog and demanded to know who brought the dog in why he was there. Well it was near closing time so I clocked out early and put the dog in my car, he continued trying to have sex with me in the car on the way home! Now there was one hot dog, and when we arrived home and I got in the elevator with him I stopped it at my floor and right there on the floor of the elevator we had sex, hot, raw, animal-to-human on the floor sex. I gave him oral sex, or rather he mounted my head and grabbed me by the neck and shoulders and thrusted with all his might. After every ejaculation he wanted more, and again and again, we were at it for over an hour, with him having I estimated one hundred orgasms and he still wanted more! A few weeks later I was walking with Richard towards the subway station and passed the German Shepherd that always hung around an old gas station, sleeping in vacant junked cars. I decided I would take him home the next day. The next day I came prepared with a lead and collar, slipped it on him after making some friendly overtures and checking to see if he was intact he was, so I was going to bring him home. With three other dogs I was going to be choosey about a fourth dog and was only going to take him if he could be a sex partner too. He was a bit hesitant to come with me, and some ladies came over and tried to be of help. I told them I was going to take him home and one lady said she could give us a ride home in her car. She got her car and we all got in, my bike in the trunk and set off for home some 5 miles to the north. They were really cool and I was glad for the ride. I named my new lover "Silvasceptre", it was kind of long, but I saw the name in a Collie book and liked it, so Silvasceptre it was. He resembled Wolfe except for having short hair, I wondered if they were brothers... Silvasceptre was rather shy about sex, it was really difficult to win his trust and affections, I spent many hours with this neglected abused dog. I also took him to the vets as he apparently didn't have any semen the few times I was able to masturbate him, I told Dr. Zeitz that and we put the dog on anti biotics. Apparently that was the cure and by then Silvasceptre's libido which was absent before, kicked in and he became like Wolfe. All went along fine though I was having problems with the two getting into fights, at times it was exasperating but eventually they got to the point of ignoring each other. We went through thick and thin together, and in the middle of the winter, in 1982, I was still living at the loft. I had a coal fed stove as the only heat source and it was woefully inadequate with all the skylights and brick walls with out insulation. One particularly cold week in which the temperatures outside dropped to the teens and below, I was absolutely miserable. I went through one ton of coal in a weeks time and it was still cold. Sometime later, the sun came out and it started warming up to above freezing, I arrived home after working my Saturday night shift midnight to eight, and went to bed. I had been in bed maybe a half an hour when I felt water on my face, it was just a drop or two and quite cold, I opened my eyes and saw drops of water dripping down on my face from the ceiling. Before I could come to my senses, I heard a metallic sounding bang and heard what sounded like a waterfall, efreshing sounding I guess, only, it was upstairs! Suddenly, there was a massive gush of icy cold water coming through the hole in the ceiling above my bed. Running to the other end of the loft I looked up in horror at the four inch diameter main feeder pipe that fed the fire sprinkler system, it had apparently frozen and cracked, sending a cascade of thousands of gallons of water a minute, with a pressure behind it of as I recalled two hundred pounds per square inch directly from the city mains! I literally panicked I didn't know what to do, in seconds the water was several inches deep on the floor, I opened both doors and let the water out the stairwell and elevator shaft. My four dogs took refuge on the sofa. I don't remember a lot of what happened, except that it took several hours for the city crews to come and try to shut the water off, it was a massive enough break that they said the entire block lost pressure, they would have to dig up the street to find a shut off valve. Apparently the fomer landlord, to save money had replaced a valve with a piece of straight pipe. I was livid! I had the authority as superintendent, to enter any premises in an emergency, I broke the door down in what was a porno magazine distributor on the ground floor, I found a valve under a grating in the floor, it took four men to shut it as it had never been closed before. In the aftermath of it all, I lost everything that was water damageable, my piano, books, boxed sets of opera records, stereo, TV, furniture, bed, pictures, magazines, everything of that nature was destroyed. My clothes, bedding and blankets were all wet, as were the pile of coal and kindling wood. A neighbor gave me his coat and I slept a sleepless night on a door placed on two saw horses, the room was about 35 degrees. I took the following day off, but the day after that, returning home from work, I saw a large piece of paper on the front door, it was an official vacate order from the fire department. I read the stack of papers which listed the numerous violations, we were to be vacated by the end of the week- the city was foreclosing. My God, now what do I do? I don't have any money, SHIT!!! God damned fucking cock sucking son of a bitch!!! I was going to pieces in my panic, such a fear had never been experienced before, I was terrified and angry. None of us had any kind of insurance or redress, the landlord had vanished. Some where along that time came a new landlord, things suddenly looked promising, I sorted through the ruined items that were part of my life and cleaned up the ungodly mess I had. Over the next few months this landlord also burned out and vanished, we were all left on our own, for several months there was no landlord, no inspectors, nothing. Then one day it happened, we received vacate orders from the city, we had two weeks to be out. My sister in Vermont found me an un-converted barn near her, that I could have for $100 a month. I called my sister up one day afterwards. "Well what about the dogs sis? the dogs? did he say anything?" "No Ran, he said the dogs were fine" "That's great! so he doesn't have a problem with my having four dogs there then?" "No, you're all set, he's really nice" She gave me the landlords phone number, and a day later I went to look at the place. It was a one story barn, no glass in most of the windows, no door, just bare raw space again. Returning home I made the arrangements to begin moving, I decided what I was going to keep, what I was going to maybe sell, and what was going to be left behind, I culled 40,000 pounds. I sold off a number of pieces to two stores that had antiques and some of the same types of sculptures and stained glass, but I had had so many duplicates of the same items on hand so I sold off many of the duplicates and other things. It helped pay for moving, fixing the car, new transmission, truck rentals and money to live on. My brother in law had sent me home with a rented u-haul truck, I spent hours and hours loading that huge truck, it was a twenty four footer, it was one of six it would take to complete the move. I exceeded the 8,000 pound weight limit in each by a few thousand pounds. Sometime around the second truck load the elevator broke down, Now I had real problems, still some 40,000 pounds to go and all of it on the fifth floor with no elevator. By now I was really losing it, I was so angry and upset, I thought back to that fucking landlord and the fucking city who caused all this. In a blind stark rage I broke every single window I had custom made and installed myself, and every single pane of glass in the numerous skylights, I broke the toilet, sink, shower, plasterboard walls I put up, everything and anything I could get my hands on. I was a trapped animal going back to primordial instincts. After I calmed down and had a long cry, I realized something about elevators... could it work? yes! I bet it would I thought. I remembered that elevators were counter weighted to about a 40% load, in other words that elevator with a capacity of 3,000 pounds when filled with about 1,400 pounds would weigh the same as the counter weight, how did I know that? I don't know, I just knew it, one of those obscure details I learned on my own. I loaded the elevator to capacity and then some, and hiked up to the motor room on the roof. I had been there before as I have had to repair the elevator a couple of times, machinery fascinated me. Looking down through the grating into the dark shaft I could see the car below, Looking at the brake shoes on the massive drum, I took a crowbar and pulled the shoes away. It worked! the car slowly started downward, this was it, this was the solution, YES!!! There was one problem however, how to tell when the car was level with the ground floor, I couldn't see very well from seven floors up, but I devised a flashlight rigged on the floor as the light source. Unloading went reasonably fine, though I had to unload the four wheeled cart and load it again each time because I couldn't roll it out of the elevator when the elevator was a foot too low or too high above the landing. Now it would be a seven flight hike again to the motor room. I prayed this would work, bringing the car back up, releasing the brakes again, the car indeed did start upwards. I made the solution, by myself and I was quite proud of it, me, an elevator "repairman" with virtually no training, I felt good, but better that I would be able to get moved. This up and down seven flights bullshit went on for about thirty trips, it was exhausting me, not to mention lifting and moving all the sculptures, with some of them weighing hundreds of pounds and a few that were close to a thousand, I moved it all, every last piece by myself. The sixth and final trip I had the truck loaded so much I blew out two tires in the rear and didn't even know it. Back in Brooklyn again I gathered up the last remaining bits I would take with me, a massive pile of rubble was all that was left in the place now, there was one more thing left to do, that Muslim bastard who lived on another floor who once threatened me with a sword and threatened to cut the head off a stray dog I let in the building and hang it on my door, the dog who was my "Stanford" Mr. Hassan as he was known, had made my tenure as superintendent miserable, I decided he would be paid back for all of that. I went to the elevator motor room and destroyed the entire control panel, I made sure it could never be fixed so he could'nt simply fix it and move out using the elevator I paid for the electric to run while he refused to chip in. No, I wanted him to suffer, I had also paid $100 for the electric for it and he refused to pay anything. Maybe I was being mean, but I was under so much tension and stress, it all just got to me I suppose, the anger and rage, frustrations, it all came out there, on that control panel. I loaded my four dogs and myself into my packed 1968 volvo two door and left Bergen street for the last time. Seven hours later I arrived in Vermont bone tired, defeated and hurting from the exertions, I slept on a makeshift bed for quite a while. George, my new landlord was nice, things were vastly different in this rural setting, and I was not at all used to it, having been living in the city for twelve years it was a shock. So here I was, I had about $30 in my pocket, no job, just plain raw space, no kitchen or bath, running water was from a hose, no electric or phone yet, and so it went. My sister came and brought some groceries and things, I noted that my brother in law had not even inquired about me, in fact, he had never phoned or anything, I wondered why that was. I wondered if perhaps my sister had told him about my having sex with dogs and that was why he was somewhat "cool" to me, I thought about asking sis, but was too embarrassed to ask that, I don't know why, it just seemed like an awkward question so I never asked. And now as I write this, thirteen years later, I still don't know the answer to that question... I suppose around this time, I had some kind of a breakdown. I caution the reader that the next account may be upsetting, it is just as upsetting to me now as I write this from memory, it was something I had blocked out for thirteen years, I have to briefly "fast forward" to the present to recount the event of past. It was, an early Saturday morning in June that I logged onto the internet chatter I frequented, one of several where we zoo's tended to get together, to talk. support one anothers misery or just associate. There were several people there, I began typing to two of them, idle chat about such mundane things as books, when I remembered a 159 page pile of Xeroxed pages a friend sent to me which he had extras of. I learned that this heretofore nameless book I had a portion of was actually a book titled "Forbidden sexual practices and morality" by R.E.L.Masters 1966 I had found the page on which an ex noble man from 1940 Germany was mentioned, the text went on to detail how in a jealous rage, the man killed his dogs, except his favorite bitch because he had caught his male dogs copulating with her. It was a tragic story, true or not, one which suddenly and rudely pushed forth an extremely painful memory I had buried for thirteen years. Suddenly feelings of extreme depression came upon me as I recalled that part of my life and the events which had caused so much pain and guilt. Agony and guilt which I had buried deep inside me for thirteen years suddenly flooded forth onto the chatters' board, with my two friends bearing the brunt of it all. Was I going to be shunned or judged? would they tell me that I was a nut and not to ever talk to them again? Would they or could they ever understand? I was not sure, maybe they would not judge me too harshly when I told them, strangely, I felt compelled to let it out, to talk to someone about it. You say; I've had similar feelings of jealousy and rage to that guy in the book You say: I've had one zoo visit You say: actually two You say: one was allowed to get to know my collie You say: and I saw my dog responding so much to him I was having feelings I never had before Luke what feelings? You say: jealousy and resentment Luke dogs usually get excited around strangers You say: I told bob not to come back You say: not like this luke You say: the dog was all over him trying to hump him You say: My feelings towards the dog has changed too You say: its tearingme up inside Robert says: Sex is tied to emotion centers in the brain more than anything else Robert says: Very hard to override . You say: its hard to explain You say: harder to admit You say: even more harder to accept You say: well I know I have similar feelings when my males try to mount my bitch or pester her Robert says: We have to remember that their social-sexual instincts aren't ours. You say: I used to have a lot of rage You say: back in 1983 I lost it You say: I cracked up You say: I was under so much stress Robert says: I had frustration, other problems, not primarily sex-orientation related You say: I had moved to a new state, and had all kinds of You say: one day I just snapped Luke i used to get enraged when i lived with my mother You say: I cant talk about it, and have only talked about it with my sister a Luke we were very incompatible You say: and I'll carry it with me till the day I die as guilt even tho 13 years has past.. You say: Luke you did something bad, eh? Luke very very? Robert says: s--t happens, but we can't back up time. You say: I killed my dog Luke i guessed this, doglover Robert says: Ouch. Tail hugs in sympathy You say: im sorry im getting tears Luke you should probably not tell anyone else here Robert says: don't short out the keyboard ;-) You say: true You say: to this day I don't know what happend or why You say: its scared me ever since You say: i had just moved to vermont had no money no job and 4 dogs and living in an unconverted barn with the fall approaching and cold weather, no bathroom facilities, no furniture, no glass in the windows or heat it was miserable You say: it was the frustration and rage You say: I still cant believe it happened You say: something happened to make me suddenly hate her Chief says: Scary that you can feel that deisre to strike out and hurt under your skin.... You say: yes it is You say: except my dog paid for it with her life Chief says: ITs scary because you don't need any particualr target--just a target to hurt. You say: that's it You say: and she was the one who set me off You say: it could have been any of the four or a person You say: but i've been able to control it since then Robert says: murder-suicide points to how universal these things are You say: yes true Luke was this a small dog? You say: German shepherd Luke big dog then You say: yes, about age 10 You say: it still eats at me You say: also knowing her background Luke you were younger then You say: you see I had adopted her Luke so many young people make mistakes Luke i bet all young people make mistakes You say: and the people who gave her up to the place where I got her paid $200 for them to take her and find a home and not destroy her You say: it made the agony even worse knowing that fact You say: being young is not an excuse You say: im really depressed now Luke sometimes I've said and done dumb things Luke taken the wrong way You say: this was more than a "dumb" thing I'm afraid Melissa says: Everyone does dumb things sometimes Robert says: mostly, I've shot myself in the foot You say: there was no excuse Luke can you say you are different now? Robert says: There are no excused for a lot of things we do, Robert says: good reasons and bad reasons Melissa says: Yet we do them Melissa says: You can't change the past. Don't dwell on it longer than you have to You say: her 'crime' was barking I feel really bad. its not much different than wife beating You say: I hit my dog and grabbed her and she snapped at me You say: and I lost it You say: it was so bad You say: its haunted me its been an unresolved issue al these years You say: i still cant believe I did that Chief nods You say: I've asked myself that question often You say: I've buried it You say: and it came out last night Chief says: You can't bury the issue. You say: no, i know You say: ill carry the guilt and pain the rest of my life Chief says: You have to figure out why the thing happened and make sure it never happens again. I came away from the talk feeling a little better about myself, I was not alone, for since this talk I had met at least two others who have told me similar stories about themselves, they had similar feelings at the time of their incidents and then the guilt and pain for years afterwards. It was a deeply moving thing for each of us to talk about with the other. In the aftermath of that night thirteen years ago I remember feeling terrified and horrified, terrified because I still had no lights, it was dark, windy and silent, patterns of far off moonlite through tree branches danced on the raw wooden ceiling, I lay away most of the night in terror, I was afraid she would come back to haunt me or something, I was sure I would see her form in the darkness! I cried again and again, the guilt and pain wracked me, I asked myself over and over why did it happen, why didn't I stop before it was too late. Eventually I just buried the whole thing in my subconscious and tried to get on with life. I had the place reasonably fixed up and somewhat comfortable and living with three dogs, there was Stanford, the old black lab mix I found in the courtyard on Bergen street, Silvasceptre and Wolfe who were both strays I had found on the streets near work. I was having great sex with all three males, Silvasceptre was the most responsive one of the three. He was the dog who showed me that male dogs can really enjoy sex. He would mount me and grab my head so hard it hurt sometimes from his claws, then he would thrust as hard as he could until he ejaculated in my mouth, he would do it repeatedly until he had enough. I savored the taste. Then I would masturbate while he licked me, after we had sex he would cavort, play, bark and get more excited, we would collapse on the floor where we were and just lay there in each other arms for a while, we were two males satisfying each others raw sex drives. It mattered not to either of us that we were of different species, we only cared that it all felt good and we enjoyed each other bodies and love. Stanford was deteriorating rapidly by now and there was nothing that could be done to repair what was a tear in the bowel wall near the anus that formed a pocket that collected feces. The day came when he gave me signs that this was the end of the line for an old dog, it was something I found depressing but not unexpected I set about to make a wood casket for him and dug a grave large enough for the box, we had sex one last time and I carried him to the car and drove the short distance to the clinic where the doctor would end Stanfords' suffering and discomfort, and begin mine. This was the first time I ever had to go through this, I wasn't sure what to expect. As the doctor gently shaved my lovers' leg and inserted the needle, I held Stanford in my arms, and after drawing the plunger back to be sure he was in the vein, he slowly injected the euthanasia solution, I wanted desperately to shout NO STOP IT NOW I WANT HIM TO LIVE.... I held back and closed my eyes the tears were stinging anyway as I felt the life slip away from what was now just a fur covered shell, and just like that he was gone. The doctor handed me a box of tissue and left the room and a few moments later his wife came in and asked in her raspy voice "Will that be cash or check?" Here I had just lost my first real lover and she was worried about cash or check the callousness hurt and stung me, I wanted to tell her what Stanford meant to me, but I could not, silenced by society's bigotry and hate of those who are different, especially those who have animals as lovers and partners. I paid the bill and carried my beloved dog to my car and drive the short distance home. I buried Stanford and created a plaque on which I etched the following verses; "Laugh not I pray the, for tho this is but a dogs grave, tears fell for me and the dust was heaped above by my masters' hand" It came from a dog book, the title now I have long since forgotten. So from my original four I had two dogs, I was depressed and discouraged from the many events and it was a miserable time for me. Not long after Stanfords' death I had a dream, unlike any I had , I dreamt I was on a beach and there was one tall abandoned building up ahead, I had lost my dogs and was searching for them, I went into the building and started up the stairs. Suddenly, I heard barking from the distance, it came from an upper floor and it was Stanfords distinct bark, no mistake about it, it was HIM! and furthermore, it was so real that I ran up the stairs shouting his name, suddenly I woke up and discovered I was standing on my bed calling out his name, I was breathing hard and my heart was pounding like I had really been running up stairs. It left me feeling quite depressed for a while since I again "lost" him, even if it was just a dream. I started to cry for him again and got out his pictures. The dream and his barking stayed with me now, even though it's 13 years later, I can still remember all the details and his bark, my feelings and everything else. I often had dreams about my dogs, usually losing them, but also I would dream about numbers. I had dozens of dreams in which I would wake up remembering the details and certain numbers, such as 2, 5, 7 and so on, and I puzzled as to their meaning or significance. I realized one day that the numbers I always dreamt about corresponded exactly to the ages in years of which ever dogs I had at the time! CHAPTER THREE One summer I started volunteering at the local animal shelter, it had 17 runs a cat room and it was kind of small, the caretaker lived upstairs and he was an unmotivated guy who didn't seem to care about anything. From him I learned the director was a lousy employer but I passed that off as sour grapes, the director seemed so nice that what I was being told couldn't be right. Not long afterwards I received a phone call at home from her begging me to help because Ray had quit and just left. "Sure" I told her, be glad to, and with that I went to full time, which unfortunately was 6 days a week, some 53 hours for which I would be paid $85 before tax. That of course was far below minimum wage and I had none of the benefits afforded to the employee, such as the free apartment, but I helped out. It was long hard hours and at times very annoying being around Ailene the director, she was English and tended to treat people like servants, at times it was exasperating just being there. But the little side rewards were, when the other help girl left after cleaning, just before I arrived, there was an hour or so window in which I was there by myself before Ailene came in. I had sex with almost every dog that was there and almost every new arrival, mostly just masturbating them, but on a few, those who were clean I gave oral sex to. There was the Dalmatian and the Golden retriever, the Black lab and many others. every single one enjoyed my advances and their enthusiasm turned me on a lot. One morning I had just given oral sex to one of the dogs and was masturbating in the inner kennel stall with him licking me, when I heard the back door slam! My heart stopped as I saw the top of a persons' head walk past on the other side of the free standing puppy cages in the center of the aisle, it was Ailene!! She was early to arrive, and there I was in the stall with a dog and my penis out masturbating, I put myself back together and none too quick too. I pretended to be letter the dog out the little door into the outside run as Ailene came around, she hadn't seen us phew!!! a big sigh of relief!! that was a close one, and the only time in which I came close to being caught having sex with a dog. She would have freaked if she had seen something. It was at this shelter that I was exposed to euthanasia, it was part of my job to take dogs to the vets for this and assist, I remember the dogs vividly one of the first was a male labrador/border collie just 9 months old we had sex before and I liked him today would be the day I would partake in killing him and it was something I struggled internally with. Finally I realized it had to be done, and since that was written in stone, I would make his last hours as enjoyable for him as I could. On the drive to the vets I stopped and masturbated him for what would be the last time for him. It was a ten minute wait in the office before the veterinarian came in and I lifted the dog on the exam table. The unpleasant memories of Stanfords' death in my arms came into my thoughts. I was petting the dog while the doctor readied the needle, the dog wagged his tail and tried to lick the mans' hand as he was inserting the instrument of death into his vein. Surprisingly it took several seconds for any effect, a stark contrast to the other dogs this one clinged to life as long as he could, he finally went to sleep thumping his tail on the table to the end. I broke into tears and sobbed in the car on the way home it was a terrible thing for me to deal with. I saved his collar as a memento, one which I still have all these years later. There were other dogs I had to take to the vets, including two brothers, as one died the other acted as though he knew what was going to happen, it greatly upset me inside to see him act this way. I knew then I suppose, that dogs indeed have souls and are much more aware of things than we give them credit for. Ailene went on a vacation for a week and left me in complete charge it was fun and I took my job seriously. But when she came back a lot of the fun vanished. There were a number of dogs and cats I had to take to the veterinarians for euthanasia or altering, she used my vet for altering. One afternoon I was there in the vets office to drop some newsletters off, and the doctor had just finished neutering a German Shepherd, I was very curious about anatomy and remarked about wanting to see the inside of a testicle, so he gave me a scalpel and a rubber glove and said go for it. I got the testicle out of the bin and sliced it in half, nothing at all interesting in it, I had expected to see lots of tubes and even some sperm but no then I realized they were microscopic... still, there was no sperm pouring out as I sort of expected. I put the testicle and glove in the trash and went back to chatting with the doctor for a while. A few minutes later I started feeling funny, no, not "haha" funny, more like I was breaking out in a cold sweat, my vision started filling in with dots and I felt faint. I decided to say goodbye and go to my car and sit down, well, I never made it cause when I got into the outer reception area the next thing I felt was my head hitting the wall next to the entry door and I next I was sitting on the floor and felt hands on me. Wow, it was pretty embarrassing to say the least. I don't know if I "fainted" or if it was the left over gas from the unvented new equipment they used on the anaesthesia machine, they had just removed the ventilator from the dog when I walked in. I certainly was not "grossed out" or "shocked". In the coming days turned to weeks Ailene and I had increasing friction and anymosity and I started to get tired of it, especially given the fact that I was not really being paid, $85 a week was peanuts. Things deteriorated after I contacted a rescue group for the Belgian Tervuren dog someone left, she was actually MAD that I contacted a club about a dog of their breed and she did a number on the volunteer who called. It all blew up one day over a puppy when I said "they say a puppy shouldn't be removed from the litter until 8 weeks not 5 weeks" and that led to an argument and I told her off, I came back with a remark about "oh, and I suppose you know more about puppy raising than the veterinarians and authors of the dog books?" and she told me "Hahaha you'll never learn anything from books!" I told her to find my replacement by the end of the week, I had it and Saturday was going to be my last day. I was saddened that I would be parted from the dogs, but I couldn't stand working for such a woman.The Saturday when it came was the saddest for me as I got into my car for the last time and drove away from the shelter leaving the barking dogs behind, I looked back with fond memories as I rounded the curve of the narrow dirt road the dogs' barking becoming fainter and fainter until I could no longer hear them. That was the last time I ever went back there. George, my landlord sometimes hired me to finish his unfinished projects, mainly painting projects, one such job was to finish staining the stalls and wood work in his sisters' stable. The facility was huge and very nicely laid out. The first thing I noticed was that there were five dogs there, a border collie, setter and a lab were the three that were especially attractive to me, I sure wanted to be alone with one of them, but all the stalls inside had open bars above the wooden walls, and then George, his sister and a caretaker were all around the vicinity, I didn't have a chance. I couldn't take my mind off them or stop fantasizing. George, had a neutered Norwegian Elkhound who was rather friendly. I was waiting one day for George to come down from his house and found the dog out back behind the shed I gave him some oral sex, just a quickie for fun, he wasn't really into it but seemed to like it a little bit. By now I had had sex with about 80 dogs, in fact, I remembered everyone of them just like most guys remember their girl friends and one night stands, I didn't have a philosophical problem with canine one night stands, especially given the unmistakable fact that the dogs have always enjoyed this and wanted me to continue. During all this time I, and several other folks were in the planning stages of starting a mail order sculpture business, Steve started the ball rolling and his friends backed him with money. They paid for insulation and basic utilities for the barn I was living in, and for materials and $100 a week salary while we were getting brochures printed and all the planning going. It never really took off though, the sculptures were expensive to ship, easy to damage and the timing wasn't right too I guess. It got me through the winter, for a year period, and they had prepaid the rent in advance for a year. After that I wound up selling pieces to Steve about every couple of weeks or so and took a part time janitorial job. I wanted to buy a show dog, since I had met a lady via writing to her after reading her letter-to-the-editor in a dog magazine regarding cropping Doberman ears, Mary and I fast became friends even though she was on the west coast and I was in Vermont. I became motivated to get into shows and clubs, Choosing a breed was tough, first I wanted an Irish setter, that red hair was exciting! but Mary advised against it, eventually I decided on a breed I liked, Bernese Mtn dogs, they were a nice size gorgeous colors and I thought they would be ideal. Mary agreed. The search for a breeder went on, I called around and wrote letters to no avail, no one had puppies. Then in March I found one woman upstate who had a litter, after spending hours talking on the phone and writing I drove the several hours to her house to look at the puppies she had told me on the phone that she had an older puppy I might like, she was four months old. I arrived after finding the house with difficulty and was taken to the puppy shed/kennel and shown the 8 week old pups, and then taken inside to see the four month old. It was love at first sight, oh she was such a sweetheart too! I decided yes, I wanted her and I paid the $400 for her and we set out on the several hour trip back home. In the coming weeks she would grow like a weed and in no time at all she was full grown. I didn't set out to buy her "for sex", in fact, I assumed a dog her size would be too small, no, I wanted a show dog and to breed my own dogs. Besides, I was mainly and almost exclusively into male dogs. By the time Lace was a year old I went back to the same breeder and bought a male puppy and named him "Star". Star was a feisty little fellow, but a little reserved, while Lace was very outgoing and into everything. I couldn't have known that just 2 years or so later I would lose lace to cancer and 3 years later I would lose Star too... their stories are to come later in the book. I took Lace to numerous dog shows and puppy matches, we even slept in a tent together over night at some shows, we were extremely close and I was very attached to her. She won a few ribbons but never did much beyond just placements in the classes, until Mary invited us out to the west coast for a couple of weeks. We made plans to fly out, Lace and I, while I boarded my other dogs. I filled out the entry forms for the five day show cluster during the labor day week, this was going to be fun! Lace and I arrived by plane and then it was a four hour drive to Marys' house, a drive done by her boyfriend at the time. Mary had Dobermans but was changing breeds, now she had a smaller breed, I kind of felt I missed out being able to have some fun with a male Doberman but her last one was placed in a pet home not long before I arrived. I was to sleep in their travel trailer in the driveway and she gave me one of her males for company while lace was crated in the garage. After they went inside I got to know the little fellow and masturbated him, he enjoyed that but he was pretty young and didn't have much drive yet. At the first day of the dog shows, it was all I could do to keep my mind and eyes off the male dogs gosh, there were Mastiffs, St. Bernards, Boxers, Malamutes, Bullmastiffs, Akita, Newfoundlands and Rottweilers to name a few, and they got me very excited. In many ways it was and is exactly the same as a man who goes to a Miss America Pageant, or watches the "Dallas Cowboys" on TV and gawks at the cheer-leaders, as a dog passed me I'd look to see, is it a male? I'd size them up and fantasize about their penis' and semen, how much, the taste etcetera. I had found that every dogs' semen had a slightly unique taste that is hard to describe, it's very mild, slightly salty, with a mild after-taste and thin like water. In the ring Lace won one point each of the first three days, now she had three points! Things were not going well on the "home" front though, Mary and her boyfriend were apparently not getting along and I was apparently caught up in the middle of it as a guest in the way. We had disagreements and snapped at each other, I finally decided I was going to leave early but unfortunately my flight couldn't be changed so we stuck it out. Arriving back in Vermont and going the next day to the boarding kennel to get my other dogs was fun, I missed the furry fellows and looked forward to having them back with me, of course they were all excited and happy to see me. My relationship with Mary deteriorated after that and there was a long space in which we stopped communicating. Then one day I wrote because I realized some of the things she said were right, I forgot what we were debating, but it was probably about dog food and the like, and at the same time she realized some of what I was saying was right too, so we both got back on track and friends again. I had decided by then that I would indeed move to Oregon because I liked the climate, no snow and 20 below zero nights, so I made plans to just do it. Every week I went to my partners' store in town and got my paycheck, though one payday I had a run-in with the stupid woman who was in charge of the store, she refused to let me get the check, she told me there may not be enough in the account, and that Im not doing my job! well we had an argument and the book keepers' husband got involved and threatened me, and I told her to go to hell after I tore the check up that I wrote. The next day at home the book keeper called me up and said "don't you ever do that again" and I told her "That guy has a threatening attitude" and she got pissed off and said something about him being her husband and then i said "To hell with you" and hung up, she dialed back and said the same thing and I said "fuck you" and hung up! then I had a similar thing with her husband and later Steve called and asked me to apologize and send her flowers! I said no way!!! and I didn't. I also had a run in with Steve over a woman who bought some sculptures from him and met me, she asked if I had anything to sell and I found a few items and got top dollar for them while Steve didn't want to pay the full value for things he bought from me. He found out about that and was actually mad, I mean, he didn't want to pay the full price and here I have a woman willing to pay what was triple the price I charged him, and he was mad! I'd go in his store and see a piece he haggled with me over a hundred dollar price and he had a price sticker of $1,500 on it and I was not supposed to be mad about THAT? Eventually they decided the sculpture business was not going the way it was hoped and we decided to just stop, they had about $25,000 invested in it. So, the rent was paid for the rest of the year and the paychecks stopped, now I had to find a part time job at the State office complex doing janitorial work, it sucked but... it paid the bills such as they were. The boss hired a supervisor and the woman and I were like oil and water, we were at each others' throats which made it rather difficult on both of us. She was irritating and condescending, and I was stubborn and contemptuous, I flipped her off but the old bird was just as cantankerous. Eventually we came to an understanding and we fast became friends which was a miracle in of itself and I started calling her "Aunt Retta" , so we had a much more enjoyable work day not being at each others' throats after that. I did get into troubl with the boss one day over a silly joke I played on a State worker who was sort of a friend of mine, he was away from his desk and I left a phone message for him, one of those preprinted ones, the message said that God called, and wanted him to call back ASAP, I mean it was just a joke that the fellow would have gotten a laugh over, except his boss found it first and complained to my boss about "wasted time" like it really took any time out... I got written up for that and it really irritated me, more demonstration of human treachery. I decided one day to build a travel trailer to go to shows with and acquired an old pickup truck bed with the axle, and I started building the thing, it was about 12 feet long when I got it done. The highlight was one night when I was working underneath it and the neighbors male Doberman who had been let out came over to check out what I was doing oh boy! I had fantasized about him for quite a while. He came over and I petted him and ran my hands down his back and sides, he smelled nice too, like new carpeting. Finally I brushed my hand over his sheath and fondled him, he had a big one, next thing I knew he mounted my head and started shoving it in my face, yes! it was great, I let him "face fuck" me as much as he wanted, he ejaculated several times and I loved the way he tasted, he hadn't been used at stud so he was quite fertile and his semen was very rich to say the least. I never had another opportunity to be with him again, it was a fluke since I lived next door to him for 3 years and this was the first time he wandered over. I never did get to finish that trailer for on it's maiden voyage I had balance problems with the thing fish-tailing, with wolfe and the dogs in it, it was fish-tailing wildly on the freeway, Wolfe sure was happy to see me when I opened the door and to check the dogs, all were still in their crates, rather shaken up. I turned back and headed for home, so much for that little project. I lived in that trailer with the dogs through the winter, it was easy to heat was why. Not long afterwards I found a used school bus in an ad for sale, yeah I thought, that would do it, so I made arrangements and went to look at it in Massachusetts, according to the law I would have had to have gotten back on the Greyhound bus, gone to Vermont DMV, register it, go back to the sales lot and then drive it back, I thought, fuck it, I decided I'd just drive it back and to hell with the DMV. I'd never driven anything that big before, 35 feet was pretty big but I managed. Some miles down the road I felt water coming up on my face from the step area, I pulled into the rest stop to check the radiator, phew, it was just a gallon of water the dealer left on the bottom step in case I needed it. Trying to start the engine, it didn't battery was shot!! argh!!!! by now I was so stressed out from it all I had a painful stress knot in my throat. Lucky for me though I was on a slight incline and was able to coast and pop the clutch. When I did get home I ripped out all the seats and started to plan for renovations, it wasn't too long before I moved into it. Talking with my landlord I decided to sub rent out the barn space because by now I was getting ready to move with-in a year probably if not sooner. I rented the space out to a couple that seemed nice, and they had a dog, some goats and other pets. What a mistake that was!! From the first day it was a disaster and it became clear later on I would have to evict them. They always took their dog with them but one day they left him behind, and while I went to shut off their water and electric which was on MY meter they were using for free, "Cal", their black lab mix was there to say hi. He was a sleek black shiny coated fellow who was quite muscular and sexy. Naturally I took a few minutes out of what I was doing and we had sex, right there on the floor in the attic. it was a fun diversion and he seemed to appreciate the release. The reader may wonder how in the world I can remember the dogs name after ten years... simple, I remember all of my lovers just the same way any of you remember your boy/girl friends' names and faces years later. Oh sure, there is a few that I have forgotten, but on the whole, I remember all of them. Looking back over the years I fondly remember The Siberian Husky named "Arelkney" the While Shepherd bitch from twenty five years ago, named "Sheba", her playmate "Damien', mortimer the Dalmatian, and scores of dogs I never knew the names of. Getting back to the evictee... I did finally evict them and just left the place vacant, their goats ruined a neighbors trees and a barbecue my land lord graciously paid for, George was a very nice generous fellow and it was hard to bid farewell when I did move. George and his wife had three horses in the field behind the barn, while I was interested or curious about them, I only checked out the gelding by feeling his sheath, it was huge but with out testicles I didn't see any use of even trying anything with him and I knew absolutely nothing about horses anyway, or how their anatomy worked. I suspected it would be different than a canine. I also tried a billy goat, but when I touched his belly he jumped straight up in the air! I sure never expected that kind reaction, and so that was the extent of my farm animal experimentation... I guess I was never really interested in farm animals or as I was taught "livestock", I suppose mainly because as "livestock" as I was taught, smelled, were dirty and were raised for food - as in the case of cows and pigs. Most all farms I'd ever been near smelled pretty badly, and so, I never really found these animals very attractive. In July I went to the first dog show which happened to be just 20 miles from me while I didn't then understand the inner workings I had a good time there and saw a lot of hot looking dogs, a malamute exhibitor asked me to hold onto her bitch while she took another dog in the ring I got to see a little bit of her vulva, but at the time I was mainly into male dogs, but the thought of having intercourse with a beautiful malamute bitch was exciting, but not something that would happen unfortunately. I decided I really wanted to get into showing though. CHAPTER 4 I just could never get along with other people in general, it was always like this, the more I had to deal with and interact with people the more I was hardened, I really came to dislike people as I was tired of dealing with them, their petty problems, gripes and bullshit. It seemed every thing to me was a confrontation, a challenge, and it seemed I was always on the defensive/offensive mode. The more I saw of people the more I loved my dogs, I just found what was for me, a perfect soul-mate with a dog, a true unconditional love with no strings attached, and non verbal communication with no mind games, hurt or bullshit. The only problem is the dogs' short lifespan can be vey hard to deal with and accept, the pain of their death is like losing your husband or wife every few years. Most married couples only experiance this kind of pain once, maybe twice in their lifetimes, for a zoosexual it is an ongoing thing. By now it was getting colder, fall and then winter and then spring once again, the beginning of a new year, this one was 1987, and I was getting plans together for the big move. Work was still dull as ever, thought a diversion came one day when a male dog happened to wander into the building while I was mopping the floor in the hallway, The dog was medium sized but rather attractive, and all male too, I brought him into the store room where I gave him oral sex, it was risky of course due to where we were, so I made it a fast one, and went back to work, it was Sunday and the animal control folks were off for the day, so all that could be done was lit the dog back out the front door and hope he found his way back home. I wanted to be sure the bus would be in top shape for the trip, after all it would be 3500 miles and I didn't want any problems. i decided I would rebuild the engine and that's what I did, and it would be my first engine rebuild too something I tackled with some trepidation, what if I couldn't do it? what if I made a mistake and screwed up? well, I hoped for best as I got the books I needed to do it, and had the block bored out and bought all the parts. I was rather scared when the shop delivered the block along with dozens of tiny unmarked boxes! Then I realized oh shit, I would have to assemble every piece myself when i assumed they would install the parts for me. Geez, I don't know what i was thinking. Well all the little bearings and washers, gaskets and everything were all there, with no instructions so I did the best I could and when I finished I hoisted that big 331 cubic inch engine in by myself and re-installed the transmission with a new clutch. After a few minor problems I fixed after a test drive I had a mechanic go over everything and all was fine.... Or so I thought! the best was yet to come! but that will come when I recount the actual nightmarish trip later. Steve wanted more concrete copies of a large bust that I had made a mold of, it took 600 pounds of concrete for each, and I hand mixed each one of the dozen or so he bought from me, it was a chore but a quick hundred bucks each. I also offered some of these to another store in New York City that I knew from over the years and had worked for stripping doors of paint, yes they wanted them and yes, they would pay the $200 price and accept the ten casts minimum. So, while I was casting for Steve I was also casting for these other folks and pretty soon I had a bunch of these damn 600 pound things all over the place. I would rent a truck and deliver them six of the ten, and I decided when I left on the moving trip, I would have to take the remaining four in the RV Meanwhile, Mary had found a little rental space for me to park the "RV" as I called it now- when I arrived, it was $175 a month which was a little steep to me, but not too bad I paid the rent up for a couple of months as I wasn't ready to move yet. Meanwhile, Lace was starting to come into season and I wanted to do a breeding, so I made arrangements to take her to a stud in Pennsylvania and planned the truck trip with a bunch of the concrete busts, to New York City to drop them off, and see my parents and then head out towards Pennsylvania. I had to park the truck and we rented a car for the trip that was brand new, It was a nice couple of hours drive, just dad, myself and lace we arrived at the house after dark and there was a note on the door that they would be back later. So we sat and waited. I went to look at "Barney" the stud, and wow he was really nice looking. I was instantly attracted to him and if I had felt comfortable with it I would have asked dad to sit in the car while I had sex with Barney. At the time though he did know all the details but it was still fresh more or less to him. I really wanted to but I just was not comfortable having sex with my father nearby and then later sitting face to face with dog hair on my face and trying to look "normal" hehe.So sex with Barney would never happen, one of those opportunities that was there but meant to pass up I guess. We decided to go to a nearby restaurant for a bit then come back, as always, dad bought us both dinner, these were fun, just the two of us having dinner. After we dropped lace off and headed for home. Just outside the tunnel the gas gauge was on "E" so we stopped and put One dollar in, kind of sheepishly, imagine the thoughts of the gas station attendant as he pumped a dollar worth of gas into a brand new car! we explained it was a rented car. Next day we said good bye and I drove back to Vermont in the rental truck. Over the next few weeks i finished re-installing the engine and all the rest, tied up some loose ends, finished painting it and getting ready for the big move. Then the time came to say goodbye to George and my other friends finish loading up what I was going to take, and finished dismantling the dog area. It was time to leave so just like that in the afternoon I started the engine and drove off, leaving the driveway for the last time I looked back at what had been my home for four years, the home where I had buried Stanford, Silvasceptre and Felson, Silvasceptre developed some health problems and started to lose weight rapidly, there was no cause found. I took him to the vets and went through the same damn thing I had gone through before, it never gets easier, only the names and faces change, everything else stays the same. The place became smaller and smaller in my mirror as I drove, until I couldn't see it any more, I would be leaving three of my beloved dogs there forever and never be able to visit their final resting places again. Now the fun begins, just 150 miles down the road I lost all my lights, the battery was dead and then the engine died as I coasted to a gas station. Turned out to be the voltage regulator but re-installing the alternator unknown to me I broke the connection by tightening the nut too tight. I was in heavy traffic just outside the Lincoln tunnel that goes under the River to Manhattan, when suddenly everything just up and died, that battery was dead again! naturally I was in the middle of the intersection... By luck, right across the street was a starter/alternator place and I got a new alternator and charge on the battery. After dropping the concrete sculptures off, I pulled out from the curb and the engine died again, this time it was the damn coil! now since it was Saturday I had to stay overnight parked until the next morning so I could get the part. I visited my folks and then Sunday, my father and I had lunch, then drove the RV around to Broadway going south towards the tunnel to New Jersey. We said goodbye there. Somehow I knew down deep in my heart that I would never see my father again, this would be the last time, that I was certain of... after 27 years we would be parting ways, never to cross paths again, I realized then that even after living with the man for some 21 years, and knowing him for 27, that I really didn't know him very well as a person he was just "dad" you see, always there, sort of like the Sun and the Moon, always there, reliable steady, and one never thinks they won't be there. Somewhere I remember reading a bit editorial where the author said that his father was all that stood between him and death philosophically speaking, because in the natural scheme of things the parents die of old age and the children go on, and as long as the father is healthy and alive, the son doesn't think about his own mortality, with the fathers death that changes he wrote. And my father now at the age of almost 70, and having brothers who all died young of heart problems, I had bad feelings. It was a tough life change choice for me, for once I left, I would be 3,000 miles away and not ever a chance I could go back for a visit. I'd be working, having several dogs and obligations, he would be working and hates flying and so on. We hugged and he kissed me one last time on the forehead and I got into the drivers' seat and drove off, highly concerned about the narrow roads through New Jersey where they were doing miles and miles of road work. I pulled into traffic and headed for the tunnel. My first stop would be in Pennsylvania to pick up Lace from the stud owners' house with that done, Lace, Wolfe, Star and myself headed down the road to new adventures. Going up a bridge ramp in Pennsylvania I had fuel pump problems, the new electric pump gave out! then In the Midwest I saw oil dripping from the rear axle housing, there was a hole in it that had been caulked. And further out the bracket on the power steering pump came loose and I lost the power assist until I could tighten it up, next came the radiator cap had to be replaced, the accelerator spring broke in Utah, sending the pedal to the floor, then in Wyoming I hit a head wind so bad I could only go about 40 with the pedal to the floor, figuring the carburetor needed help I rebuilt it at a truck stop, and in bend Oregon I discovered I'd been driving on a flat tire in the rear dual... All in all it was the worst trip I'd ever been on in my life, I took ten days in all and arrived in Oregon on a cloudy rainy dismal day, it was so discouraging and depressing and for the first time in my life I felt truly alone, scared, and nothing was familiar. The loss of familiar surroundings Id say was the worst of it. Mary and I got together and shortly afterwards I did get a part time job, still had no car or phone, and the trip ate up most of my money I had about $65 left when I arrived. It was tough driving a 35 foot RV to work every day but I didn't have a choice, things were not going well, and nothing went as I planned either. Then it happened, Lace started going into labor but things were not going as they should have I drove to the Veterinarians' office in town but he was out "with another client" as though I was what? chicken liver? "Come on Lady I got an emergency here, can't you get hold of him??" "I'm sorry he is with another client in his other office" Some response... I ran out and made a call to a friend of Marys' who I didn't really know, She was a club member in the local dog club, she would know what to do! She had me call another club member who was closer to me I drove to her house and she was rather concerned, so she took Lace and I to her veterinarians' in her car. Once we got there we had to give Lace some oxytocin shots to stimulate contractions, it took 3 or 4 which was a lot. Had she not responded to that last one it would have meant a c-section. In all there were nine puppies, all bitches, not a male in the bunch! a couple were whelped on the drive back home in the RV. That night though, unfortunately, Lace smothered three of the puppies despite the so called "pig rail" and other precautions, I had to bury the three tiny hours old puppies that would never see life, it was so sad and it really upset me. Thereafter, the puppies were put in a basket with a heat pad and I slept with them like that on the floor for a couple of weeks, getting up in the middle of the night several times to let Lace nurse and clean them. When they got bigger all was fine. One puppy, the runt was losing weight rapidly, it was only through my giving her tube feedings every few hours around the clock for several days that she lived. I had enough tragedy and death in my life, or so I thought. I learned that one of my cousins had died suddenly, she was in her 40s... and that my father was in the hospital, apparently he had to identify her body at the morgue and the stress was too much, he had chest pains and now was getting a triple by-pass and there I was 3,000 miles away almost penniless with three dogs and 6 puppies, no phone, no car no credit card, and it was getting to be a nightmare. As the days went by I had to leave the job because it was costing more in gas to drive there than I was earning, but there was hope, my cousin apparently heard I liked dogs, and she did too, so she left me the proceeds of her life insurance policy in her will, it was amazing! but what was supposed to take a few working days turned into weeks as the insurance company dragged it out, while I waiting for the check I was evicted by that cold bastard of a landlord despite showing him the letter stating I had a check coming he was as inflexible as a piece of iron. Now I was parked on the street in town, and the day time temperatures were over a hundred degrees and I had no air conditioning, no refrigerator, no shower either, nor hot water. I rolled some coins up and cashed them in and bought dogfood and went to the mission for a box of food, here I was, living like this and I knew a check would come in the mail and solve all my troubles, but WHEN??? The lady who lived next door to the rental place I had was pretty nice, she used to stop by on her way to town to see if I needed to go in for groceries etc. as she knew I didn't have a car. She was my savior in the end, she happened to find me parked on the street and told me that she and her husband wanted to invite me to park on their ranch. I was ecstatic to say the least, that began a friendship, Joan would go shopping and come back with a bag of groceries for me, including my favorite candy bars and treats for my dogs, she refused later when I did get my check, to accept any repayment for the groceries she bought for me. Somewhere around then I learned that she was not well, you see, she was dying of cancer. So while she and her husband were in Seattle for treatments I house and pet sat for them. They had a neutered lab and a neutered Saint Bernard and yes, I had sex with both of them... Anyway, fall was approaching soon and I had just put a deposit on 20 acres of land, it would be spring before I could move there so I hunkered down for the coming winter on their ranch. The puppies were growing like weeds and ready for their new homes, I decided to keep one, I sold one and took the other four to the airport to ship back to my breeder friend, the stud owner, one for the stud fee one to satisfy a co-ownership on Star and one to trade for a puppy from a different line for breeding, and the fourth to sell for me. On the way to the airport I changed my mind suddenly on the fourth puppy, I don't know why but I wanted her, she was just a sweetheart, so I kept her and named her "Laika".December 10th would be a day I would remember most though, for on this day I came home later than planned due to minor car trouble, at the door only two dogs greeted me, I fumbled for the light and turned it on and saw why... Wolfe, my beloved dog lay still on the floor, suddenly I realized he had died, I dropped everything and went to him, cradling his head in my arms I started to cry, I talked to him but he was gone, we had shared some four years together and now this was the fork in the road. I stayed with him like that on the floor for a couple of hours, WHY? dammit all, everything and everyone around me was falling to pieces. I answered a newspaper ad for a male labrador retriever, and "Mcgruff" came to live with me, he had a soft, short jet black coat, and he had been on a chain all his life, we never really hit it off I suppose because of that, he just hadn't been exposed to a lot of people. He had a penis that was unusually long for his size too, just one of those aberrations I suppose. It was now February 1988 just 7 weeks after Wolfe died, how well I remember the pain and sorrow, it's just as clear now almost eight years later, as it was then, it is as though it was just last week. The morning that would change the course of my life began like any other day does, I woke up, preformed the usual tasks, shave, shower, breakfast, letting the dogs out after feeding them, it was a ritual I've done so many times it was a set pattern. This morning was different, this was the day I found my beloved bitch "Lace" had taken ill, something was not right but what was it? why was she panting like that when it was the dead of winter and room was not warm? "Lace" was a Bernese Mtn dog, a block of a puppy who came into his life just three and a half years earlier, a sweet natured gentle dog. Her coat was jet black, with a deep white chest, and russet brown color patterns, She was a showdog with AKC points to her name. Her master and lover had even proudly shown her off at the world renowned "westminster" .dog show in New York City. Randall made a call to the veterinarian... in the back of his mind he knew what the diagnosis would be, but he tried hard to put it out of his mind for it was too awful for him to contemplate. It couldn't be that, she was just a little over three years old, she loved life, to play, and knew she was loved and treasured. She was a happy creature who loved everyone. NO!, it couldn't be cancer he kept telling himself over and over, all the while knowing deep down inside that this was it, the fork in the road, the one which would take his lover from him into it's dark icy fingers where there was no return and no future reunion. He would never see her again. The thoughts greatly saddened the man. But he had read about the breeds' problem with this form of cancer, a vicious form of cancer that had no cure, and what's more, he had found the lump high up under her foreleg against her chest, hidden, secretly stealing her life from her as it grew slowly but inevitably, spreading to other tissues like seeds falling from a weed. During the twenty mile Drive to the veterinarian, he thought back over the past three and a half years, all the good times they shared, the shows they had been to, and yes, the sex they enjoyed together. Lace was the dog who taught Randall that a bitch does enjoy gentle caring sexual relations and will seek it once they know what it is all about. She was a special bitch to Randall, for at the age of twenty seven he gave his virginity to her, she was the first to give him this experience, not a girlfriend, not a woman. He had been a virgin for twenty seven years until the night of consummation, a night which had taken place just a couple of months earlier. They were just starting to know one other. Pulling up in front of the veterinarians office he snapped a lead onto Laces' collar and went inside, fearing the words he would hear. The wait in the stark white client area was agony, he remembered staring blankly at the various commercial posters and the ever present "Be a good pet owner" brochures. The assistant appeared unexpectedly and motioned for him to follow her into the clean examination room that awaited it's patient. "Hi Mr. Wolfe, and this is Lace?" "Yes hi, that's Lace" "Hi Lace! oh she's pretty!" "Yes... she is, thanks" Randall was not interested in this idle small talk, he wanted the doctor, he wanted her NOW so this can be over with. "The doctor will be with you shortly" "Thanks" After the assistant left, closing the door behind her, Randall held Lace and continued to think, only, this time, about diagnosis and treatments if any. There was a soft tap on the door... "Yes, come in" The doctor introduced herself, "Hello, I'm doctor Bloom, and this is Lace?" "yes, hi" "How is she today?" Pointing to the offending area he said- "Doctor, I found a lump on her last night, and her temperature is now up to 105 !" "Lets take an x-ray and see what we are dealing with" "Ok, what ever you think is best doctor" He watched as Lace was lead off into another room, he had been told to "take a seat" to wait.. Time passed slowly, the minutes on the electric wall clock turned into an hour, an hour of frustration and sadness, he asked himself was this the end? what can be done? what if... the thought went unanswered because from around the corner came a white smocked woman, she was calling his name, "Mr. Wolfe ? come with me please" Randall obediently followed the woman around the corner, she had said nothing in particular, just idle small talk on the way to the back laboratory. He knew then in his heart that this would be where he would hear those words he dreaded. The doctor was waiting for him. Pointing to an x-ray on the wall, the doctor showed him the various shapes, she explained what they meant, but he did not see what she was pointing to as the tears had blurred his vision slightly. He did not comprehend the subtle differences in the light and dark shadows on the x-ray in front of him, but he knew it was a picture of death. The words he knew he would hear next , hit like a ton of bricks, yet at the same time they sliced through him like a razor blade. "I'm sorry, Lace has a tumor and it is massive and not in a good location, it has very likely metastasized to other tissues. what I can suggest we do is..." Randall didn't hear much of the rest, he was lost in deep thoughts of the past he and Lace had shared together, the experiences they had and enjoyed, the funny things she did that made him laugh. "MR. WOLFE ??" the doctor said loudly. "I'm sorry doctor, what? treatment? I don't have the money for that, and according to all I know about this particular cancer is that it is genetic based, I know several who have spent thousands on chemo and surgery and failed, their dogs died anyway! What about removing the tumor? it will give us some time and make her better for now. " An appointment was made for the following day at another veterinary hospital, the one owned by his regular Veterinarian. Dr. Hadley owned the clinic and lived in the rear apartment, he was a kindly older man who did not charge very much, he even trusted Randall with treatments, he believed in Randalls knowledge as a breeder to be able to ask for certain medications his dogs might require, and to get them with out an examination. That was their working relationship, one of professional mutual respect of each others knowledge. Randall did not know then, that Dr. Hadley himself was also battling cancer... I remember the day like it was yesterday, it was February 24th 1988, I can vividly remember taking Lace into the office and handing her lead to the assistant, she and the receptionist, myself and the Doctor stood in a circle chatting. Lace was persistent in pawing at me, it was something she did when she wanted my attention, however, this was more intense. I couldn't put down the idea that she was trying to tell me something, it gnawed at me later on the way home. That night was a lonely one, even though I had Wolfe, Star and Laika and Amber waiting for me. The next morning I awoke early and before I did anything I went to Jo-anns' to use her phone as I didn't have one of my own. I'll always remember that call and exactly what was said. "________Veterinary clinic can I help you?" "Hi, this is Mr. Wolfe, just calling to see if I can pick up lace yet" "Oh, ah, Mr. Wolfe, the doctor wants to speak to you, please hold" The line clicked as the call was placed on hold. That concerned me, she was not acting right, why did she hesitate? my God, did something happen?? damn, what? A second click was heard as the doctor came on the line. "Mr. Wolfe?" "yes" "I'm sorry.......... your dog passed away last night.... I tried to reach you by phone but we didn't have a number to reach you at, I was going to drive out in person to tell you but I wasn't sure I could find you" "She's .....dead????? how, what happened??" "I'm sorry, sometimes removing these kinds of tumors causes histamines to be released, it can cause shock, she died of histamine shock" The tears welled up in my eyes as I told the doctor I was coming in. The twenty mile drive I do not even remember, I must have been in shock, this was so unexpected, this was awful, how could this happen? The doctor took me into his apartment and offered me tissues, he started reading from a textbook a brief phrase on histamine shock. I didn't hear but three works maybe out of the whole paragraph he read out loud to me. "It just is such a shame when things like this happen, I've seen clients who abuse their dogs and don't care one iota about them, and then a client such as yourself comes in with something like this and your dog passes away despite the treatments, it's just not fair" I cried for a while and then asked to be taken to her. I was led to an outside kennel area, there she was, stretched out on her right side, on a tarp... motionless. I stayed there petting and holding her, caressing her head in my lap, she was gone, my beloved Lace, my dog, my lover. An hour passed quickly, I hadn't even noticed the 35 degree cold. I asked that she be cremated and her ashes returned to me. Then I removed her collar and looked back at her for the last time, her shiny black coat waved slightly in the cold breeze, her eyes remained closed, her ears heard nothing as I said my last good- bye to her. I knew I would never see her again, for this was the fork in the road of life with each of us going down a different path, a path where there was no rejoining at a future rondesvous point. Deaths' icy fingers had taken her from me far to early. I then realized why she was so persistent in pawing at me, she was trying to say goodbye... For months I was depressed, bitter, angry, full of hate and resentment, it was the doctors fault, I reasoned, he didn't monitor her or he killed her on purpose, I built up a scenario in my mind of the doctor playing "humane advocate" and purposefully killing my dog to spare her what he could have perceived as a selfish owner dragging her pain out beyond the point when she should be euthanized. He did this, it was his fault!! I blamed the breeder, she sold me this dog, she knew about the cancer in the line it was her fault too, and then that friend of hers, Gene Brock, she knew too, I had spoken to her on the phone about this cancer. She knew it was in the line, she knew I bought breeding stock and had a breeding program in mind to start my kennel. No one ever said a word before, my dreams of having a nice kennel of show dogs again were shattered, they had taken this from me, they took my beloved Lace from me it was their fault DAMN THEM!!! I fell deeper into depression, I snapped at people, I hated everyone, I was a wounded animal lashing out at anyone and anything for the pain I was feeling. Bitterness ,resentment and depression eventually subsided, I was starting to put the past behind me and attending club meetings again. One night, months later at the club meeting which at this time was held in the courthouse basement, I felt like a cup of hot chocolate from the vending machine. I inserted my thirty five cents and selected the hot chocolate button, opening the door to remove the cup suddenly it hit me! The cup! that cup in the vending machine, my God it was the SAME kind of cup that the crematorium had given me with laces ashes!! just smaller, it was the same pattern and the same everything, suddenly all the past memories came forward again and I couldn't touch that cup. I left and went home depressed again and somewhat horrified by the association of that drink cup, I asked myself why didn't they think ahead and use some other container for ashes! Over time, that too healed, spring came and the ranch on which I had been parked had been sold, we were all to be out by the end of the month, the weather was clearing up and I was getting ready to move to my land some 30 miles south. A few days after I had finished helping my hosts move to their new home, I backed the motorhome around to get ready to leave the next day. Swinging back and around I suddenly discovered the ground was very soft, a very heavy downpour started as well. Oh shit!!! what the fuck?? I can't believe it, I got the fucking thing stuck now how the hell am I going to get this thing out? I tried three huge 100 ton house jacks and even two cars pulling on it, but they had no traction and the rear axle just sunk lower, it was buried! The next day Joans' husband came bye to pick up some things he left behind, and we were able to use his bulldozer. When I arrived at the dirt road to my property there was a steep hill to go up, guess what, I never made it to the top and wound up spinning wheels and ultimately sliding backwards like the road was ice, and I wound up at a steep tilt in the gully, that one ran me $95 to get towed out of. Calling Joan and her husband Don they invited me to park on their new place until the ground dried out and I could get up on my property. I stayed four weeks and then finally moved. Not long after, I found that I had been given wrong information, that no, I could NOT now get electric power unless I had the septic system installed and passed. I was furious to put it mildly, more so when a bill for $600 came for a lousy permit just to be able to dig what I felt was a hole to take a crap in on MY property. It was beginning to feel like a dog-eat-dog world and I was wearing milk bone under wear, it just never ended. I decided fuck it, I'd buy a damn generator and make my own power. It worked out to cost about the same in gas as an average electric bill, it was inconvenient but I wasn't unduly put out. I was doing some work on the roof of my RV one afternoon when I saw a young male Doberman wander up my driveway he obviously belonged to the people up on top of the ridge, I climbed down and he came right over to me. I went underneath the RV and he came with me, that's where he had fast male on male uninhibited sex, he didn't have any semen yet, I guessed he was about 10 months to a year old, but he seemed to like what we did and happily trotted off afterwards. After a while I got back into going to shows, and I took one of my puppies to a match where she won best puppy in match, that was fun! It was an interesting day because one of the judges came over and started talking to me later, I gave him one of my cards, and forgot all about him till a couple of weeks later when I received a letter from him, apparently he was gay and was trying to pick me up! It was funny because I had been propositioned by so many pick up lines, as a teen, I learned how to spot the type of lines gay men use, and things they say. Almost always they will ask about girl friends, and/or talk about sex, and from there it goes. As I had products I was selling then, he wanted to buy a couple of them. One afternoon he arrived in a new Lincoln Continental; to pick up his products. We sat down and talked, and by now it was obvious what he wanted, he tried to take a pass at me ... " So do You have a girl friend?" "No, I'm not interested in girls, or guys either for that matter" "I was right about you... You are just what I was looking for" "Wow, I'm flattered, but I'm not into the gay lifestyle any more, I used to be a little bit, I had a gay friend who used to come over for sex, but one day I told him not to come back any more" "So, are you seeing anyone now?" "No, I'm exclusively into dogs for my partners" "Dogs?" "Yeah, I sleep with male dogs mainly" "Well ...you can get your rocks off, but what about a relationship with someone?" "No, I'm not at all interested in humans for sex or relationships" And so, that pretty much took care of that, if I was gay I suppose right now I would be living in the lap of luxury in Southern California with a rich doctor, but that's not me, I'd be living a lie and I'd have to give up what I want more, my dogs' sex and love relationships. Not long afterwards, something very strange happened with Star, it would greatly disturb me, it would also mean we would be parted forever shortly and leave me greatly disheartened and upset. The attack came out of the blue, completely unexpected, I walked across the room to get something, passing Star on the way, suddenly from the corner of my eye I saw it too late, he sunk his teeth into the back of my leg just like that, it was agony, and as he sunk his teeth in he shook his head making it worse, he was so strong I had a hell of a time getting him off me, while I was trying to get him off of me, Mcgruff heard the commotion and broke down the bedroom door and I saw him come into the room and I just knew there would be a major fight. There was, I was in agony, blood pouring down my leg and the two of them were in a big fight, and Laika tried to join them but I got her outside. shortly it was over, so I was attending my deep puncture wounds and had two chewed up dogs. My leg hurt so bad I got into the car and went to the store for aspirin and took about half a dozen tablets. The next day almost the same thing happened, Star again attacked me, and his teeth sunk in exactly the same places they did the day before, only, the pain was ten times worse this time. I managed to get him off me and nursed my leg which now was cramping up so bad I couldn't stand up. I decided he would be put down, something was wrong with him, rage syndrome? what was it? I didn't know, but I was not going to have a dog like that in my house. It was an internal struggle between one part of me that deeply loved this dog with all my heart, and another part that was now afraid of him and even resentful. I was going to wait until payday and have him euthanized. While I struggled with that idea and the finality and loss, payday was a week away, I took to keeping a hammer for protection from my own dog, reasoning that if he attacked me Id have to kill him to get him off me. The third attack came before I was able to take him to the vets, this time on my other leg, I grabbed the hammer and with great pain and anguish I hit him with it, I knew once I did I would have to kill him. I hit him several times as hard as I could on the head, but it didn't even faze him! His teeth were sunk deep in my leg and he was trying to tear a piece of my leg off, the pain was incredible. I hit him several times on the ribcage and it was enough to distract him long enough to let go and for me to run out the front door and slam it shut behind me. So there I was standing outside the front door, my shoe and sock getting soaked by the blood from my leg. That was it, the last straw, I was not going to risk a 35 mile car trip with him, nor was I going to keep him another week. Later that day I set up the dog crate next to the car, coaxed star outside, he seemed perfectly fine and normal, it was so difficult, what was wrong with him? I didn't understand, he was a Jeckle and hyde dog. I lured him into the crate with dog food and shut the door. The pain in my heart was as great as the pain in both my legs as I started the car up and directed a hose with the exhaust into the tarped over crate. I had hoped I was doing the right thing, I reasoned many humane shelters euthanize animals with carbon monoxide, so it couldn't be painful or anything. With-in less than a minute Star was unconscious, and then he was gone. It brought back awful memories of Felson, but this was much different. I cried for a while, this all was just so unexpected, and coming on the heels of so many bad depressing things, it was just more than I could stand. Later, I dug a grave and buried him. I still bear the emotional and physical scars of the attacks and his death, I never did find an answer but suspected a brain tumor since he was out of the same blood lines as Lace and the same age. I was all i could come up with for an explanation. For months later I was highly nervous if one of my other dogs approached me from the rear, expecting an attack. Eventually it wore off. Stars' canine teeth missed a vein in my leg by 1/8 of an inch. Mcgruff didn't work out either and I placed him, I shouldn't have gone out as fast as I did after Wolfe died, to get another dog. He was too aggressive and the match just wasn't right. Crowning the year came the news that Grandma had been hit by a car, was in the hospital, and then later in physical therapy she suddenly collapsed and died. All in all, this was the worst year I had ever experienced in my entire life, I became sullen and with-drawn, full of anger and hate, sorrow and pain, depression and hopelessness. I hated my job and everything else. After about a year I decided to sell the land, I'd never get the now $8,000 it would cost just to install the special septic system the County wanted. After a few months of advertising I found a buyer and took the low offer he made. I made the provision that I remain there for one year free. A year later I was invited to park on Dons' land again in exchange for some help, so, great, that meant I had a place to go, water and electric too. I arrived there the same day we started bombing Iraq, August 2, and got settled in quickly. it was a change for sure. Don picked me up at work on his last day at work for the county, since I had a car and my RV to move, so after we got both vehicles, I had dinner at their place that night. Don as a friend is a very good one, but in looking at him as a person and knowing his law enforcement background has kind of soured him, he has a very anti-gay, anti-black , anti-Govt. attitude that at times can be hard to listen to. At times I wanted to say something when he spoke of gays as "Those homosexuals" and explaining to friends that they want "special rights" and that they deserve to die of aids. Had I not been so very dependant on him I would probably have said something. Don has an air about him, one of authority or father figure that kind of intimidates me a little. He is a rather quiet guy when we work together, theres no idle chat, just all business and everything has to be done his way. One of the first things we did was pour a cement slab and install underground utilities for a model train room he had which was set up in an old mobile home, I also installed the utilities I needed. They had two dogs, the same Lab mix and shih-zu, though now their Saint Bernard was gone after developing cancer. Occasionally I pet sat for them, and found their Lab mix was very oral, and oddly enough he seemed to know how, almost as though he had been trained to lick, he would lick me and I would masturbate him, his being neutered didn't make a lot of difference. He was still able to have an orgasm but lacked much of the male drive. I offered wondered to myself if he might have been trained, for I have not seen that degree of training come to a dog naturally. After I settled in more problems developed, my car kind of died on me serious trouble what ever was the cause, and I had no money to get another one to get to work, and use it on the job for deliveries. I did find one, a '66 toyota which was running okay until not long after I moved to Dons' then it threw a rod. anyway, a year into the delivery job I was offered a new job at a commercial ceramics shop and I quit and went to work there. At first the boss seemed nice, but not long after I started I learned about his other side, the nasty sarcastic patronizing side of him, he was a nasty bastard to his employees, treating us like servants, and downtalking to people. None of us even liked him and when the supervisor quit I was promoted to that position, but it didn't mean a thing other than now being in the middle, between my co-workers and the boss. It was a cold dark dismal place to work, and the heat was kept quite low. When the car did die rather unexpectedly, Don let me use his pickup truck and make small payments when I could, that's the kind of friend he is. Sometime after I really had had enough of my boss, it was a constant struggle to go to work and put up with him, I absolutely hated the man, I made plans to start a competing sideline business and take his customers away or put a substantial dent in his income. Every opportunity I had I brought materials home, copied customer addresses, went in the garbage for order sheets with their orders and address information. Just what ever I could get my hands on. Finally I had enough the week he announced I would be trainign a new guy to do what I was doing, in preparation for the big move, I had him fooled into thinking I was going to re-locate with him, but he apparently had plans of his own, he wanted me to make him a whole bunch of new rubber molds as spares, I was the only one who knew how to make them, mix the chemicals and glaze formulas etcetera. Yeah, I made the molds allright, I made all 40 of them so they would not possibly ever work or turn out right! and accepted a new job at a kennel. The Monday I quit was so refreshing...right in front of everyone at break time I spoke out... "I wont be in tomorrow" "Oh? taking the day off?" "Yes Bob, in fact I won't be coming back" "I don't understand" "I'm leaving " "I still don't understand" "I'M QUITTING" >long pause< "Oh...why?" "Because I'm sick and tired of your bullshit and I don't need this job anymore" >Long pause< "oh...okay...." With that he scruffed off into his office getting more angry by the minute as the "wheels" must have started to turn and he thought "oh shit! I'm fucked!" and shortly afterwards got in his truck and drove off, he made a big display of changing the door locks and we had an argument over my pay check, after I threatened legal action he wrote me the check and I walked out the door for the last time, so happy to finally be free of that damn scoundrel forever, it was like a huge depressing weight had been lifted from my shoulders and it felt great. I now had a part time job at a boarding and breeding kennel, not long after I was hired, I started having sex with the male dogs every day, they were clean, eager and enthusiastic so I gave them oral sex. One dog in particular I fell in love with, and all black long coated German Shepherd named "Egor", he had long soft fluffy jet black fur, cute looking ears and a face that was just very attractive. There was also a male Shepherd named "Isaac" that I was very attracted to, and a bitch who thoroughly enjoyed being fingered to orgasm several times, she would try and mount me at the same time and start thrusting and undulating her hips. She had a pleasant cinnamon scent to her fur for some reason. But I was mainly attracted to Egor, he was just a sweet natured very pleasant dog, the kind that stands out among the others because of his attitude and temperament. My job was to exercise, feed and train the dogs. I got up in the early mornings, drove the 35 miles one way to work, did my chores, worked and trained the dogs, and went home. I worked roughly 4 hours a day which was not enough income really. But one of the other employees was planning to move to another state, so I would go full time before too long. Things were going along okay until two days after the man quit, apparently things didn't work out so he wanted his job back but could only take the position I had working part time. A few days later I went to work and the boss asked me; "Did you put the Shepherd bitch in with the Rottweiler ?" "No, I wouldn't be that stupid, what happened?" "Someone put the Bitch in heat in the Rottweilers' kennel, he has a heart condition and he cant take that stress, and if AKC ever finds out the two were together I'm in deep trouble, someone is going to have to admit to it or I'm going to fire all of you" I Hadn't a clue what the hell was going on, all I know is I had not done it, either on purpose or accident and there were only the boss, myself and two employees, so it was one of the two employees. The next day the boss called me in her house and asked.. "Do you think you can get your job back at the ceramics shop?" "Ah... no, not a chance" "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to let you go... it has nothing to do with you as a person, but someone put those two dogs together, and also, I find you are very slow, you take time to do chores that I as a 70 year old woman can do in half the time it takes you to do" "Well, I'm sorry, I know nothing about the dogs being put together, and as for the time, You did say you wanted a thorough cleaning job, walls, floors ceilings, I took the time to do it right" I didn't hear much of the reply to that it was clear I was being railroaded out of there so the other guy could get his job back, he and the other one probably cooked up a scheme to screw me and again I learned just how treacherous the human race really is, as I was being fired, one of my dog lovers there was draped across my lap looking for attention. I was planning that day to ask the boss about possibly buying Egor, I was going to ask how much she wanted for him, but now, that idea was trashed because I would be unemployed. I left the place I thought for the last time, depressed and angry, and to think about all the extra things I did for free off the clock like dropping feed off to the cattle on the way out, use of my truck to get barrels of diesel fuel, things like that. I probably worked an hour a day for free. Well, that took care of that, two months there and now I was out of the job, what to do now.... I went home to the dogs and fumed about the situation. I applied for and got unemployment and that helped. After trying to get some kind of income with out much success, I landed a new job in fast food, it was dull but it paid the bills. As time went on I decided I wanted to make a new start in a different dog breed. and at a show a friend suggested a new dog related product I should try selling, that of course necessitated getting pictures which my friend provided. As I was working with the photographs she and another friend provided, I was finding myself being more and more attracted to the breed. After a while I decided I would look further into the breed, and maybe see about joining the club. Eventually I did that, and was reading through the clubs' magazine, when I saw an ad, just a win photo taken at a show, but the ad mentioned something I liked so I wrote to the lady and said I thought her ad was great, and I was interested in a puppy. I never did get a puppy from her, but she instead offered me an adult male, he was 4 years old but he looked ideal in the video she sent. So in December we met and I looked the big fellow over. I just loved him from the start, and after several hours Bridger was on the front seat and we were driving home. It would be a 3 hour drive. When we got home I introduced him to Corky and Laika with no problems, I couldn't get used to just how large this dog was, stretched out on the floor he looked absolutely enormous. In the back of my mind I was not sure I had made the right choice, I was determined to make it work out and before too long I became used to his bulk and size and he started to look well.... "normal" to me in size. We went to a few shows togethe, and as always he performend perfectly, he was so well trained he was a joy to show. I really enjoyed our one on one days like that., just the two of us. Of course initially I discovered he did not like to go for rides, so getting him in the truck was a major chore when he refused to get in and put up a fight untill I had to lift him in - which took all I had to accomplish since he weighed more than I do. Then one day he just gave in I guess and jumped in on his own, go figure that one! So we went to shows with him riding on the front seat for the trip. While we never really won anything spectacular he was a lot of fun to show. And here we come to another day that will live in my memory forever, Laika was not feeling well these past couple of weeks, nothing I could put my finger on as something specific or even serious, she was losing weight and she would frequently vomit after eating, nothing very alarming about those, I just increased her food and figured it was just her excitement and the way she gulped her food down as the cause for the vomiting. She certainly looked fine, but that is the trouble with animals, they can't tell you what's wrong if anything is indeed wrong or hurts, and by the time they do clue you in it's usually too late, the disease or problem has progressed beyond hope or cure. Laika was the kind of stoic dog who loved life, and had a happy attitude, she loved to be loved and she loved people. Laika was one of those animal spirits that brings joy and happiness to all those who had the privilege to meet her. I suspect a lot of that has to do with the large amount of quality time I spend with my dogs, petting and talking to them, and always having them indoors with me, and sleeping on my bed with me at night, this all cant help but have some positive effects on a dogs psyche. She had a short life as dog lives go, but she became the "goodwill ambassador" for her breed. Today that would all come sadly, to an end when she suddenly stopped eating entirely, she was only mildly interested in treats and any kind of food, I made an immediate appointment with the veterinarian and drove her the 30 miles to the clinic and waited for the doctor, Laika and I were escorted to the examination room where we waited. "Hi Mr. wolfe, lets take a look at Laika's chest, she IS thin, you said she just stopped eating?" "Yes doctor, her appetite has been off lately and she has been vomiting right after meals" "I don't feel anything unusual here, but I would like to take a couple of films of her chest and then we can go from there" "ok" Laika was taken into the other room for a few quick x-rays and then brought back, we waited for what seemed like forever for the results, and then the doctor came back with an x-ray in her hand, just that fact alone suggested to me she found something... I also suspected what it was she had found on that x-ray view, I knew it, I just knew it would be "the" cancer. "Ok, I have one view here I would like to show you" Snapping the dark colored film into the clip on the lighted view box on the wall, the doctor pointed to the various areas on it. It was Deja-vu all over again it was "the" cancer, I knew it.... I just knew it and it figured, it really did... why was I surprised? I wasn't, not in my heart anyway because I already knew what the diagnosis would be, it was engraved in my subconscious. All I could do was think how grossly unfair this was. I had thought when I did an outcross breeding of Lace to a stud that was clear of the cancer in his line, that all would be fine, and at the time I did the breeding there was no proof it was even genetic. After I did the breeding I found out a study had shown it was genetic, but I was sure Laika would be okay, more so when she passed the known danger age of 3-1/2 years when this cancer typically killed it's victims. Looking at the x-ray I re-lived the events and tragedies of just 6 years earlier with her mother Lace, I couldn't believe this was happening again to me and another dog I loved. Pointing to the various areas on the x-ray she showed me the massive invasion of tumors in her chest, she offered a few ideas to try, medication, chemotherapy and surgery, with the Chemotherapy running $10 a day or more it was beyond my ability to cover. Knowing the history of this disease and that several owners had spent thousands with no cure, I opted for medication and making her comfortable, no surgery, no chemotherapy. We were sent home with some tagamet and another bottle of pills I have forgotten the name or effect they were supposed to have when administered. All that week I cooked special treats for her, what ever she wanted cheese, meat, cake... anything to get her to eat and gain some weight. I knew her time on this earth was very limited, and so, before long we would be parted, I wanted to make the best of the remaining time we had together. I rented a video camera and took a couple of hours of video tape, including an hour of me just cuddling and holding her. Just one week later she again stopped eating and now vomiting bloody fluid, it was the sign I knew would come and that I was reluctantly waiting for, she was telling me she had had enough and this was the time, the time was right for her to be released from this existence and her cancer riddled body. That afternoon with tears in my eyes I made the phone call to my Veterinarian, I would require an appointment for tomorrow to have Laika euthanized. At 3:00 PM the next day we arrived and were escorted into the examination room, I lifted Laika up on the stainless steel table and held her and petted her as the doctor prepared the injection site and the syringe. The syringe slid into my lovers' right forearm, and I clutched onto her like a child to a teddy bear as the euthanasia solution was injected, slowly Laika slumped down and her head rested on my left arm and she went peacefully to sleep. With -in seconds she was gone, the doctor and her assistant left the room and closed the door behind them. All I could do was lose it, I couldn't hold back the tears and anguish while I held her in my arms and stroked her over and over. A half hour later I composed myself and got the doctor, we were not yet finished there, for now that my Laika was gone, her shell, the shell that held her spirit for 6 1-/2 years would now provide tissue samples for a cancer study for her breed to determine the familial relationships and genetic susceptibility, the samples were to be used for the data base. The doctor was going to get help moving Laika into the other room, but I picked her up myself and carried her into the other room and gently laid her on the surgery table. While the doctor was in the other room, her assistant and I talked. I was not going to leave the room, I wanted to see for myself this damn cancer and what it had done to my dog. The doctor was concerned that I would want to do that, but I said, yes, she is just a shell now and I want to see for myself. I donned a smock and rubber gloves while the doctor made the long belly incision. We found tumors in her esophagus, spleen, stomach and heart area, ulcerations in the stomach explained why she stopped eating. The tumors were so invasive that the doctor said they were inoperable, and that surgery would not have been an option after all. I felt a huge relief knowing that. I had made the right and only decision I could have, surgery and chemotherapy would have caused her further pain and discomfort and would have been useless. The surgery lasted some 45 minutes, as the doctor was suturing up the incision and I was removing the smock and gloves, I started to feel bad, I suddenly realized I was sweating like hell and I was going to fall down on the floor any second! I went to the waiting room and sat down in front of the air conditioner, yet sweat was still pouring off my forehead, my vision blacked in and I felt dizzy. It took a long time for it to pass and afterwards I felt weak and disoriented, I suppose it was the extreme stress because the sight of blood and surgery didn't make me nauseous or sick, I was on an emotional roller coaster to hell. Sometime later they loaded a large box into the bed of my truck, I was going to take Laika home for burial. After the grave was dug I carefully placed her in it and looked at her face one last time knowing I would only see it in pictures and video, I was crying all the time I dug and while I covered her with the dirt. All the rest of the week I kept thinking to myself "Its been an hour since she died... it's been two hours... five hours.... it's been twelve" and so on, I still couldn't believe she was really gone, but she was. Goodbye Laika I love and miss you. CHAPTER 5 The days and weeks passed by quickly not a day hadn't gone by that I didn't think about Laika and how much I missed her. I watched her video tape often and was so depressed and discouraged, it was affecting my day to day activities and attitude at work, it was hard to deal with because, as many like myself know, you can't express your feelings to anyone in the general populace, your boss does not understand, nor do your friends. To them it was just a dog, how painful it is not to be able to properly grieve for an animal that is in effect your lover! So, we have to grieve in silence and not be too obviously affected or emotional, we can't take a sick day off for "death of a family member" and there are little resources for a grieving pet owner, let alone a person who considers their dog their lover! They say time heals all wounds, but some don't heal... In any case, I had thrown myself into a different breed, different clubs and became a crusader, an army of one on a mission to spread the word about health issues, hoping to effect some changes to better the lives of the dogs. I was up against politics and a stone wall at times. Bridger settled in quite well and once he settled in we had sex on a daily basis, he became so responsive and enjoyed himself so much it was difficult to keep up with, I mean, the dog weighed more than I do. He would mount me for oral sex, and grab me, thrust as hard as he could, and claw my back with such gusto, sex with him was like being run over by a tractor trailer! Yet, incredible as it might seem, there are actually people who have convinced themselves that this is abuse, that the dog must be forced into this, but nothing could be further from the truth. People who hear of this also incorrectly assume that the man is forcing the dog into anal sex, I suppose that is all they can visualize in their minds when confronted with the knowledge of a man having sex with a male dog, but in reality, anal sex is not common at all, other than the human being the recipient. The weeks turned into months soon it was summer, then fall and then winter gain, another year gone by. One day, wanting to do a database for one of the clubs, I decided to buy a computer, and I spent weeks creating the database and then watched as no one was interested in the information. So I started using the computer on line, meeting many people with similar interests around the world, I was really amazed at how many people were either curious or were engaged in sexual relations with dogs and horses of both sexes. Suddenly I didn't feel I was the only one like this anymore, as time went on I became much more open about my sexuality and eventually I became dissatisfied with having to hide it, and keeping it to myself. If the topic of sex came up in discussions or if asked why I didn't have a girl friend , or why wasn't I married yet, I spoke the truth. Pretty soon most of my close friends and co-workers all knew that my lovers were dogs, and they didn't care because they knew me as a person. At work the usual "guy" talk near quitting time almost always gravitated o women and sex and anything else, I brought up a sick story I saw posted about a man who enjoyed raping and killing Rabbits, every dusgusting graphic detail was included in the posting which was designed to annoy and irritate the readers, it brought angry responses and consternation. As I recounted to mike, my shift manager, and co-workers what the post said, we had a discussion during which I mentioned it was not the bestiality that bothered me but the abuse and torture. Over the next few days eventually we discussed more along these lines, and the subject matter of the newsgroup which I read. "So in other words you condone bestiality but it's the abuse of the Rabbit that you dont?" "Well yeah Mike, I don't have a problem with the sex part, just the fact that the animal was tortured and killed, if the animal was not being harmed, I wouldn't see any problem with the guy having sex" "But I just can't see having sex with an animal in any case, it goes against Gods' laws and the laws of nature" "But the thing is, I don't follow your Religeon Mike, there's many Religeons in any case and none of them agree on anything" "Well I doubt you will find any that condone bestiality..." "Probably not, other than some tribe or remote culture" "So in other words you condone sex with animals?" "Yeah, I do, as long as the animal isn't harmed, I know a lot of people I've talked to who have relationships with animals, dogs, horses, sheep, what ever, I was never interested in horses, I chose dogs long ago I guess because of many reasons, but also the unconditional love, non judgemental attitude they have etc" "That is so wierd! but hey, I'm not going to judge you, it's not my place to judge other people, that's for God to do, I just don't grasp the concept, it's so foreign to me, how does one have sex with a dog??" "Well it's not much different than two men or a man and woman, we have the same basic parts, I started when I was nine, so it's probably partly genetic based" "I don't think something like that is genetic, I feel it's a lifestyle choice, humans have the ability to make decisions and choices in their life" "Well I don't know one way or the other, but since the males of all species are universally supposed to be attracted to the scent of the females of their species, how does one explain why gay men find the scent gross? Surely that is genetic based. The scent of flowers v/s garbage causes the same reaction in everyone, thats genetic, so if thats the case then so is the sexual attraction. All I know is I haven't been attracted to women, or even guys really, but I can look at a dog magazine like you might look at playboy or a pin-up callendar and find an attractive looking dog as exciting to me as the pin-up girl is to you" "Wow, that's a really wierd concept... have you ever felt you could change?" "Nope, not a chance, I find the human body kind of gross, sweat, saliva, Body odor, perfumes all gag me, but not at all with a dog" "Hmmm, well I still can't see it, sex with an animal, if I was the last person left on earth it would never occur to me to even think about having sex with an animal, I'd masturbate instead, I'm not judging you, it's just how I feel and Gods' law, I just hope some day you will be able to get past this in your life" "Well I just don't see what difference it makes what one has sex with, we have sex for recreation, so with that in mind I don't feel it makes much of a difference what some one has an orgasm with, dogs sure don't care they are just going by what feels good, with out the laws and moral hang-ups we have. Every Religion and culture is different, even each State has different laws on different things. Bestiality used to be a hanging offense and they even used to kill the animal as well , if you can imagine something so stupid! But back in the dark ages when they burned witches we were burned too, just like the gays or someone who had a black cat. Society has progressed a long way since then and bestiality is not illegal in half the states" There were two friends, both of the "plastic" variety I discovered, whom I had known for ten years, one I had helped in every way possible, the other I had bought dogs from and corresponded with on a weekly basis. Both of them simply dropped me like a hot iron, just like that, and just like that I never heard from the one again. The other one gave my personal letter to someone else and tried to destroy my life with her misguided actions and strange motivations of taking a personal letter and distributing it to other people who in turn distributed it to more people. One can not know what rage and betrayal are, until one has had something like that done to them by someone they considered a close friend. Universally, in communicating with other zoosexuals, one recurring philosophy always comes forth, and that is a philosophy that the animal is never ever forced, abused or harmed in any way. And that the animal is anthropomorphized by some to such an extent, one would swear their animal partner was a human. I think that is going a little overboard, but if the animal is not injured or harmed I don't see anything wrong with anthropomorphizing a dog or horse, but for me, a dog is not a furry human and should not be treated like a human, they should be allowed to be and act like dogs and be disciplined for chewing things up and the like. With this extreme care and affection of the animal so evident, it is a real mystery why anyone would consider sex with an animal where there is no forcing, or any kind of abuse, or why such a person would go to lengths to try and destroy someone for it. Sex is a natural extension of feelings of love and closeness, having a sexual relationship with ones' dog is, to a zoosexual, a natural expression of that close relationship. Sure there are plenty of people who simply abuse or even rape animals, but they are bestialists and highly disdained and shunned by us, to them, an animal is simply a hot convenient "hole", and that is abuse! There is no real support group or organization other than a loose knitted little community which communicates via computer, most have never met each other face to face, and most don't even know the real names or locations of other zoosexuals they talk to in this media. A couple of these people have been recognized and "outed" to their employers with obvious disastrous results. As this book was being written, the hate and bigotry drama was still being played out, except it now intensified and broadened to include other people who were so inclined to judge and attempt to ruin someone's life because they were "different". The irony of the religious moralistic claptrap, the hypocrites who proclaim their belief in God and attend Church every Sunday, dropping their obligatory dollar in the collection plates while sitting on their own thrones in judgment of others, so ready to condemn and destroy other peoples' lives at the drop of a hat. One woman, some three thousand miles away proclaimed on the net that she knew who Randall was, that she "remembers" the name from a posting months before in which he supported the creation of a support group for zoosexuals, and explained in a from-the- heart fashion, what a zoo was, how they felt about their animals. The woman spent an entire weekend out of her busy schedule doing searches of databases for a posting, a name, anything to connect the past post to Randall. The woman continued her relentless harassment and even teemed up with maria Randalls' former friend now enemy, working in concert together they continued... one evening, Randall was getting ready for work when the phone rang, "Hello?" dead silence, "HELLO?" he asked, then a female voice on the other end spoke out <unintelligible...."we know who you are " click, the phone was hung up. "Hmm, I know who that was, it had to be < >, what the fucking hell is that damn assholes' problem?" Randall went into the book case and found a magazine, he looked up the phone number for the Central Club and dialed the number. The voice at the other end was female "hello?" "Hi, is this the Central club?" "Yes, I am the secretary for the Central club" "Great, I'm trying to find < > would you have her phone number?" "Hmm it doesn't ring a bell, hang on and I'll check" The phone was laid to rest for a few moments, the voice came back on shortly "That was < >?" "yes, that's right" "Here it is, theres' no number but I have the address, it's..." Randall scribbled the address on a scrap of paper. It was some three thousand miles away, a woman who could only assume and condemn, based on her suppositions and bigotry. "Damn fool, if she read that post from months ago she KNOWS how I feel about my dogs..." Dialing directory assistance for that state brought about the phone number of his tormentor, he was sorely tempted to phone and tell her "I know who you are too honey" but that would indicate to her that she really did reach him... instead he dialed just to see what was at the other end, it was three o'clock in the morning there, the phone rang and a female voice came on "hello?", it was her, that damn fuck! Randall hung the phone up, satisfied he had the right woman. He thought about the past few months briefly, all the bigots out there so ready to condemn others for anything at all, it was depressing to think about. Randall fed the dogs and let them out into the yard, within a few minutes he was in bed, tired from a long day. SATURDAY Saturday rolled around like most do, Saturday was special though, it was the day he could call his father, the day when long distance charges were the cheapest, looking up the number he dialed it, the familiar voice of his father at the other end was reassuring and strong willed. "Hello" "Hey dad" "Son?" "Yep, hey what's new?" "Oh I'm fine, never better, I have a new system for the horses, and it seems to be working, I went yesterday and bet ten dollars and got back fifty, but I like to play conservative until I'm sure the systems work, how about you? what new with you? anything?" "Well yeah.... same bullshit..." "What's going on now son?" "Oh that damn woman maria remember her?" "Now is she the one that was......" "Yeah that's the one, she apparently got together with another one and they did a database search and found a post I made months ago, and then one of them called me up and said 'we know who you are', anyway I just changed my phone number and accounts" "Well what do they want from you, money, blood??" "Dunno dad, they are just bigoted idiots is all, but they have nothing other than text, one is now going to file a complaint with the AKC, ha, whats that going to do!?" And so went the conversation with my father, I could hear his tone of his voice, the helplessness as he thought about what could he DO from the other end of the country to help me while he watched him being destroyed, aggravated and hurt by bigots. The garbage continued for a couple of months, with Randall fighting back every step of the way, a blow brought a counter blow, one post led to a counter post.... then suddenly that was it, everything just simply stopped, just like that. It was as though someone had simply turned a switch off. Randall had apparently won this battle, with the help of other zoo friends, the fact that maria could not legally post things about Randall, or anything of his she may have had, for it would open the doors for a libel suit since there was no physical proof of any wrong doing. Randall even attempted to bury the hatchet but this was completely rebuffed. EPILOGUE And so, here we are, months ater still watching, still on guard. The problems on the net completely vanished and things got back to normal, still, the other aspects of Randalls' life were heavily damaged as far as the clubs go, though Randall now has a new identity and all else as a precaution. Again he sets about the task of rebuilding his life to what it was before this mess started. Such is the pain of being "different", shunned by society and the self appointed morals police, and those who simply don't understand, and don't want to understand. This still brings out the question, with few if any answers, least of all, answered in any definitive way by this book. I have no scientific reports, no study results, research results, only my own mind, experiences and that which others like me have shared with me... The question of course is; "Is this genetic or is it simply a lifestyle choice?" It is hoped that after reading this book, and that written by another zoosexual, that the reader will have a better understanding of what a zoosexual is, and perhaps why we are this way. We do know this much, most all true zoosexuals started young, puberty or before, with one who started around age four. The average age appears to be 10- 13 or so. We also know most zoosexuals are normal productive members of society, they are your neighbors, the man who installs your phone, the person at the medical laboratory, veterinarian, kennel owners, engineers, computer software designers, truck driver, fast food worker, and many more. They are just as productive and normal as any other member of society, and quickly dispel the stereotape of the geezer farmer in overalls! Many are also married with a wife and even kids, many are not, it truly is a mixed bag with no single aspect being a common trait other than an extreme attachment and love of animals. All have had differing childhood experiences and come from differing economic backgrounds as well. It is said that pedophilies are such because they have been molested as children themselves, that is their supposed common thread of why they are what they are. Be that as it may, I have discovered no similar commonality between zoosexuals of that nature. Some had dogs during childhood, some didn't, some were neglected, some were spoiled, some were abused by parents and some weren't. There is no single aspect I have ever been able to finger, it's not low self esteem either, that is not to say there is no connection , but if there is, it is not very clearly defined. Gay people are gay it is suspected because of a genetic basis, some preliminary research shows promise this may in fact be true. Again, if the basic sexual desire of the male of any species is controlled by genetics (it is) and thus, the males of each species are genetically predisposed to being attracted to the female of their species when in estrus, this scent then stimulates and directs the male to attempt copulation with the female. It is clear then that this is why one species does not usually attempt to copulate with another one, why a male dog doesn't try copulating with a mare or a stallion with a bitch, each species has a specific pheromone to attract males of the same species, this is genetics at work. Why then, do SOME males not find this female scent at all attractive, and even repulsive? many gay men recoil at even the thought of a woman's vaginal scent and her period cycles, heterosexual men are attracted by the scent and the pheromones contained in it, and like male animals, many men engage in oral sex with a woman, this increases the amount of the pheromones absorbed by the male. The scent of lemons, or flowers is almost universally pleasant to people who smell them, while the smell of rotting garbage and food is universally repulsive, this again is controlled by the genes. With this in mind it is clearly evident that genetics play a substantial role in every aspect of human life, from eating to sex and everything in between. Humans do have a will and choice, some can overcome their basic urges and drives, likes and dislikes, but expecting a zoosexual to "convert" to so called "normalcy" is as impossible as asking a heterosexual man who is repulsed by the thought of having sex with another man, to convert to being gay! A bi-sexual maybe can do it by omission of sex with the same sex, but for all others it is nearly impossible. A World Wide Web page on sexuality has this to say on sexuality in general: "Primary Sexual Orientation would also seem to be a simple aspect. The three most common primary sexual orientations among adults are heterosexual (only capable of forming primary relationships with members of the opposite gender), bisexual (capable of forming primary relationships with members of either gender), and homosexual (only capable of forming primary relationships with members of the same gender). Young children and a very few adolescents and adults may have an asexual primary sexual orientation (incapable of forming primary relationships with members of either gender). According to most sexuality researchers (from Kinsey on) The vast majority of adults are bisexual to some extent, with smaller numbers heterosexual, homosexual, and (fewest of all) asexual." "That same research has shown that primary sexual orientation is in no way a matter of choice. It appears to be imposed by a combination of biological predisposition and experiental/environmental effects. While primary sexual orientation has proved intractable to the aversive Behavior Modification techniques used in some misguided attempts to "cure" homosexuality and bisexuality (which are no longer considered pathological), it can be modified by way of a combination of integrative techniques derived from modern techniques for modification of Self Concept and Identity. These techniques mimic the process by which such Identity elements of are formed, rather than trying to "force" the change on the person. These techniques are ONLY effective with the active cooperation and support of the client - they can not be "imposed" on anyone. " This all strongly suggests there is in fact some measure of genetic predisposition to all kinds of sexuality, naturally these can be altered to a degree by environment, upbringing and life experiences. Pedophilia and rape it has been shown are NOT about sex, those are completely different categories entirely. Fetishes may be partly due to upbringing, personal tastes and life experiences, but the basic aim and urge, to becoming excited physically by a woman, or man, or an animal are not fetishes, they are part of who and what the person is. Writing this book was not easy, there were literally times when remembering and recounting things, especially the death of my dogs, that were so painful even now, all this time later I had tears in my eyes as I typed, some of it was so depressing it affected me enough that I had to stop for the night, and the depression lasted for hours afterwards. This book would not have been possible with out the support and encouragement of my friends in real life, net friends, father and co-workers, all of whom asked "Hows' the book coming along?"
  6. This is a re-post from the archive. Originally written by SEM and published on my old Zoo Web Page. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Ethics and Zoophilia By SEM Editor'd note: This Essay originally appeared in the news group talk.politics.animals during debate concerning animal rights and humans who are attracted sexually to animals. It is posted with the permisison of the author. Religion, by nature, is both subjective and exclusive (the our sect is special because we're the only one that understands the true nature of things and everone else is damned" syndrome). As religious and cultural taboos vary from culture to culture, we cannot use them as a basis for determining right and wrong. The litmus test I'd choose to use is "harm", with the sole exception of harming oneself (the freedom of self-determination cannot exist if the ability to self-destruct is revoked). Murder harms another person. Rape harms another person. Theft harms another person. Assault and battery harms others. Psychological abuse harms. Drunken driving has great potential to harm other people. These offenses have distinct and identifiable victims and perpetrators, the exact nature of the harm done is often readily apparent (due to the victim often being intentionally targeted, or even an innocent bystander). But, does just *being* drunk hurt others? Does merely getting high on marijuana harm anyone? Does soliciting prostitution harm? (John Stossel of ABC's "20/20" did a couple of thought-provoking stories on these topics). Does engaging in sexual intercourse with a member of the same gender (or members of another species) harm anyone? Or are they "victimless" crimes? Can gods (of a religiously diverse country) be victims of any indignities against their honor? I must maintain that they are not; how can a god be named a victim if nobody can even reach a consensus on the nature of that god? Can society be victimized? Yes, it can, when some people decide to go against the majority and decide to violate its laws and customs. Society is definitely harmed when scofflaws stir unrest. Murders and thefts cause distress and disrupt harmony as individuals seek to exact revenge over wrongs having been committed. On a brief sidenote, the ancient Athenian king Drako is not the ruthless villain the words associated with his name ("draconian") often seem to imply; he actually came to the *rescue* of his society by codifying the laws and punishments, and getting the government involved in meting out justice, especially in murder cases such that the cycle of feuding and revenge would stop (ideally) with the deaths of only the victim and perpetrator. Without the institution of society (through the government it administers) setting itself up as a "victim by proxy", the vicious cycle of revenge/avenging gets out of control. But all too often society sets itself up for an inappropriate victimhood...the civil disobediences perpetrated by women and blacks in the US victimized society. How does that happen? The people who compose society overstep their bounds and stop minding their own business. They blind themselves to the reality that their only basis for denying rights to some eligible classes are generally unsupported by any semblance of reason. They begin pushing subjective legislation around that has nothing to do with enforcing the purpose of the government in a free society: to keep people from harming each other. The government ceases to be merely a victim by proxy, it becomes a full-fledged victim when that happens. So, what's wrong with the government becoming a victim in and of itself? Easy...freedoms are trampled underfoot. To an extreme, the government and its rulers suppress dissent and any other freedoms it deems harmful to itself (hot issue recently was burning of the US flag; elsewhere, such as in China, political prisoners continue to rot in prison because they espoused democracy and thus victimized the socialist regime running society). The rule of thumb isn't a hard concept. All the people need to do is arrange a government that basically maintains order and security. It most properly accomplishes this by: (1) setting itself up as a victim by-proxy *only* for other beings (i.e., it cannot represent itself as a victim) (2) recognizing as victims only sentient beings whose existence is universally acknowledged-- physically present animals (including humans). This means no gods or subjective religious dogma should be a factor. The reason for this being that there are many gods around that often have conflicting agendas, which will bring their respective followers into bitter conflict (whether they exist or not). It's not up to society to determine which God (or god) is the correct one, that's too subjective and difficult to do without setting up a state-run church. Only when some god or another steps forward and indisputably claims damages should the government defend that entity. Note: the freedom to worship (without infringing upon rights of others) can be disrupted, and in such a case there *is* a victim: the ego of the god is irrelevant, but the worshipper would clearly have been wronged. This is all ideal. When society can't even arrive at a general consensus on which organisms deserve the status of personhood, everything will continue to be shaken up and society will continue to evolve. Today, blacks and natives are considered to be people with rights, not livestock as they were seemingly treated in generations past. Perhaps in the future, mammals (and other animals) will be considered to hold full rights, and folks will look back at the ways we treat and use livestock today and call us unenlightened barbarians. To seemingly be decided in the near future is even the status of fetal humans; as things stand now in the US, pre-birth humans have no rights until they're born alive (even at stages where they have highly developed brains and modern medicine is able to sustain their lives independent of the mother). However, (this is the suggestion) we can make things more ideal by at least resolving some of the more obvious issues: decriminalizing the crimes objectively determined to be "victimless". We need to distinguish the subjective "wrongs in our own minds" from *real* wrongs. Homosexual relationships between two consenting adults seem to be exclusively a wrongs in many people's minds (and against the dignities of their God), yet not a *real* wrong against society at large, because it victimizes no individuals. A weird case: pedophilia between adult men and boys used to be an accepted rite of passage in ancient Greece (this is definitely *not* a defense of pedophilia as I'll point out later on, it is just the way things were). In their society it seems that fathers had great cultural difficulty in expressing any sort of affection for their own sons (excessive doting was socially unacceptable), so they took on the sons of others as proteges/lovers. There was no stigma attached, and the protege generally stood to benefit by gaining a mentor who would aid him in rising through the ranks. Both benefitted, the youth receiving affection (I cannot fathom this situation not being harmful in some ways, such as the sexuality thrust upon a sexually immature person, but I must reserve judgement because I did not live in that society), the mentor from being able to express affection. But that situation has changed. The widely-held views of society today makes that type of relationship a crime. The stigma attached to the act reflect negatively on both the victims and perpetrators of pedophilia. That situation results in psychological harm in this society and cannot be tolerated until the harm stops (*if* it ever disappears). However, the question is, is pedophilia a wrong in my mind and almost everyone else's, something subjective that we learned, or is it a *real* wrong that society has realized and corrected? As for bestiality...the point is largely moot. Can harm be committed against a creature that has no real rights? Humans choose not to bestow the "right to life" on animals, we don't require their consent to kill them. Nor do we require their informed consent to domesticate and train them to work for us. We often circumvent and suppress their wills in compelling them to bear young, either via restraint or artificial insemination. But this issue is more complex than just animals not having many rights though, since we do seem to grant them the right to a life without excessive misery and pain. It all boils down to whether animals suffer from having sex with humans, either physically or psychologically. Unless beaten or otherwise bullied or restrained into submission, I fully believe that animals are indeed able to consent (or not consent) to just about anything...sometimes my horses run away when I pull out the saddle because they don't feel like being ridden. It used to take a great deal of persistence, patience, and persuasion to get them to consent to taking their dewormer pastes (I don't believe in using force or physical restraints to "persuade" them to do *anything*, with the sole exception of keeping them fenced in). And it is well known that horses will sometimes kick if they don't consent to something invading their space. Breeding hobbles are used to prevent mares from acting out their dissent to being bred in the form of kicking out at the stud; if they weren't able to resist, the hobbles wouldn't be necessary. And dogs bite (just try touching the bone of a possessive dog without its consent). Pretty much all animals have defenses and the capability to physically resist or at least make known their objections. So, I guess I must reserve judgement on this issue. Hmmm...with one exception. It does really seem like animals *can* be psychologically damaged if they *don't* consent to sex (or even physically, someone on another board related the story of a mare fighting being bred to the degree that, even though restrained in breeding hobbles and doped up on tranquilizers, she flipped over backwards and broke her back). And certainly young (sexually immature) animals have great potential to be harmed by any sort of sexual relations; my sister's Lab bitch just experienced her first heat recently...the bitch was definitely not ready by the accounts my sister gave, she resisted and fled from all potential suitors instead of consenting to mate with them. To force the dog to breed in that state of mind would almost certainly seem to cause great harm. I'm just glad that the dog wasn't ready...I hope her owners demonstrate their responsibility soon, I highly doubt that they'll be able to intercept the girl in time when she decides she *does* want to take on a suitor(s). At the very least, it would be wise to compare bestialists' rights with the rights of animal exploiters in general. If we try to set a precedent that animals have actual rights, would it not be an obvious violation of a right even more fundamental than to refuse sexual advances, the right to simply live? I'd hate to be a hypocrite to condemn one form of possible use and abuse while committing another more blatant form... I also do not know about it "being wrong anywhere I go". For what stories and rumors are worth, Bedouins are said to often be a bit too fond of their horses and camels. Residents of Nebraska (more specifically, the Cornhuskers football team, hehe) are also said to be a bit too fond of cattle. And jokes abound in regards to Scotsmen and their sheep, would these jokes be popular at all if there wasn't a hint of possible reality in them? Back a few years, it seemed that many religions at least tolerated bestiality; there are many Greco-Roman myths in which a god seduced a maiden by assuming the form of an attractive animal (and one case that I know of where a mortal woman, Pasiphae wife of king Minos, was stricken with amours for a bull and begot the Minotaur). With stories like that, and depictions of bestiality in their wall paintings, it seems that those cultures just didn't have a problem with it. By SEM.
  7. Welcome, Eagle. I would be curious to know how your thinking has changed from when you de-lurked in 1997 (see below Eagle Eyes#1) and now nearly 21 years later: Issue #1: Monday, March 31, 1997 In this issue: [Intro to Eagle Eyes | My plan to gain acceptance | My True Story | Flames] Warning! This document contains content of a graphic sexual nature Read no further if such material offends you. LEGAL COPYRIGHTS I HOLD TO THIS DOCUMENT: Absolutely none! I don't want to reveal my identity, so as yet I have no way of charging anyone. Besides which, this is so non-professional I wouldn't get a penny for it even if I did and most zoos don't seem to be financially well off anyway. In other words, copy this and re-distribute it to your heart's content. Put the whole thing on your webpage. Think of it as freeware. I only ask the following of you, on your word of honor: That absolutely nothing is changed in the document That you make sure you are not sending this document to a minor That you don't send this to some agent out to get me! That if you *are an agent* you realize I'm no threat and don't send James Bond after me! I honestly don't believe in those vile militia-generated government conspiracy theories. I don't believe there are any aliens at Area 51. I'm just plain and simple paranoid, okay???!!! ;-) Just in case anyone is interested, this document (and its HTML counterpart) were created using Microsoft Word for Windows, Version 6.0. The above photo was "borrowed" from the Microsoft Photo library included with their MS Office 4.3 CD (nobody tell Bill Gates, please!). The title and caption were added and smoothed using Paint Shop Pro, an excellent and powerful bitmap image editor supporting a wide variety of image formats. The "zoo graphic" at the very bottom of this document was also pieced from the same photo library [I used PS Pro's circular-capture feature and did some manual edge touch-ups to put the zebra and cheeta eyes in the center of the O's ... I think it's kinda cool lookin', don't you? ;-)] using Paint Shop Pro. Unfortunately, I accidentally erased both images and they are gone, so the only copies left are the bitmaps stored in this Word file. I will work on creating replacements for them, however, so don't fret if you really like them! Introduction To Eagle Eyes & Zoophilism If you just stumbled onto this newsletter and don't know what it's about and are sensitive about discussing unusual sexual desires, read no further; this document is not for you. I can't say this enough, folks. I sincerely hope there are a few non-zoos reading through this to help you understand who we are, but I do not want anyone to read through this who is offended by graphic sexual descriptions and remarks. Special note to non-zoos reading this document: One of the first things non-zoos must realize is how openly graphic zoos are with each other; we do not consider sex to be perverse or evil. We are usually very private about our zoophilism with non-zoos, but hide nothing and make no pretenses with each other. If you are a non-zoo and, after reading all that, feel you can handle the content of this document, I applaud your maturity and hope you gain something from this. I would only be too happy to answer you e-mails, but please be sure to mention you are not a zoo. I apply no label to non-zoos, but I prefer to be a bit more private. I will answer any question put to me, though, no matter how personal -- I assume you know what you are asking and expect a personal response. When I began writing this document, I intended it to be for zoos only, but that would partially defeat the purpose. After writing most of the material, I decided to make it open to anyone interested, zoo or otherwise. I must therefore apologize, for much of the material here is "zoocentric." I'll endeavor to avoid that completely in my next issue, okay? :-) What is zoophilism? Summed up, it is a very rare sexual and spiritual orientation: toward non-human animals. Zoophilism is not bestiality. Bestiality is a pure lustful rape of animals, without their consent. We zoophiles (or zoos, the preferred term) share an immense respect and love for our animal partners that extends far beyond simple lust. We never force sex on an unwilling partner. As with many zoophiles, I used to be ashamed of myself for my desires. I thought I was perverse and kept my feelings to myself. I "crawled inside my shell" so to speak, shutting out all of society and my own feelings. Coming to terms with being a zoo was not easy. Only very recently have I found kinship with others and learned who I really am -- a zoo. It is no more to be proud of than being a man or a woman; it is simply who I am. I lead three separate lives whereas most "non-zoos" only lead two. I have my public life in which I smile, say hello, and am polite; my semi-private life, in which I speak some of my true feelings but nothing about being a zoo; and my zoo life, in which I veil nothing and hold no secrets between myself, my partners, and kindred zoos. I hold no private thoughts from my kindred zoos and reserve no feelings, and they do the same for me. I put sensitive things delicately (as yet, I have not grown angry toward any other zoos, but I have received and responded to e-mail from a zoo who was extremely enraged, though not by me; see my special note in "My Plan To Gain Acceptance From Non-Zoos", but I have no veil for even my most private, reserved thoughts. Welcome to Eagle Eyes, a magazine filled with the endless ramblings of Eagle, a zoophile. It is a magazine for zoophiles and friends of zoophiles. Just like being a zoo, this magazine is absolutely free. I will post it on a.s.b. whenever I get around to updating it; if you feel you have missed the latest issue, e-mail me and I'll send you the most recent copy available (I plan to save every issue I write ... since I still live with my parents, I carefully save each one as a password-protected Word 6.0 document). Please specify whether you'd like the HTML version (which requires, of course, that you have an HTML-capable e-mail software) or the Word 6.0 version (that's the pre-Window '95 version of word, but it should work in Word '95 or '97 just fine). Note that the Word version has no "jumps"; the links are still there as blue and underlined, but it's just text and not true hyperlinks. Also note that the Word file version is protected by a password (this is because I have them all stored on my parent's computer at home and I don't want them reading it and finding out I'm a zoo). The password is simple to remember: zoophile (all lowercase; it is case-sensitive). I see no reason for it to ever change, for my parents ever figure it out they know who I am anyway! For those of you who haven't e-mailed me, I am "Eagle" (of course). My special zoo e-mail account is AnonZoo@rocketmail.com (short for anonymous zoo, not "a non-zoo"). The uppercase letters are not strictly required, of course. I probably bore a lot of people with my long e-mail ramblings, so I put some of those long messages in here. I will still probably e-mail long messages for as long as I am on the 'net, but I will try not to repeat my stories/articles/"ramblings" from Eagle Eyes in my e-mails. ;-) For those of you who have e-mailed me, I sincerely apologize. I didn't even have enough time to send everyone a message saying I would be gone for the rest of March (I spent forty minutes writing and sending one e-mail!). I surf from a college computer lab, and we went on spring break, and the lab was closed. So what is "Eagle Eyes" all about? I have been thinking strongly about all the helpful, very friendly words of support and wise advice I have received from my kindred zoophiles. Everyone was so kind and warm, I wanted to do something for others to make up for my lacking any experienced words of wisdom. I wanted to start something for my fellow zoos.. This is that "something." I do realize that posting in a.s.b puts these personal stories and ideas "in the open" so to speak and that this will likely make me a target of painful flames, but I feel it is worth the risk. Thus far flames have not been all that bad; I only received one in fact, and after humiliating the poster by re-posting their flame at a.s.b., I have not received another response [I did send them an e-mail back congratulating them on their excellent grammar and helpful response :-) :-o :-()] from them. I have, however, received a total of twenty positive posts to that one flame. I realize many are hurt by these flames and the spam that invades our corner of the news, but we must not let it break us. I am a newbie zoo (not even one year now since my first encounter and only having discovered I am not alone a few short weeks ago) and am still unaccustomed to how completely open other zoos are with me, even on first e-mails. It is not uncomfortable, but it will take some acclamation on my part. I think of fellow zoos as a part of my own mind; I hide nothing from fellow zoos (except my true identity which I hope everyone understands), but the feeling is still somewhat strange and new to me. I treat other zoos as I would my zoosexual partner: as equals and with absolute trust and honesty, since all fellow zoos have treated me the same. Please read my article on Flames -- hopefully my thoughts will be useful in some way. As I said, I received many responses to my posts. While quietly observing the a.s.b. board for a few short weeks before I made my first post, I felt so cold and alone. The area was infested with spam and pleas from bestialists -- not the friendly zoo-types like the sort whose websites I found and visited. I stumbled upon them, really ... until I did, I had never heard the term 'zoophile' or 'zoosexual.' I now realize why so few true zoo posts are made on this board: fear. The same fear that keeps us in the shadows, always afraid of being discovered, the fear we shed when we have a chance encounter with one another. It must truly be the deepest fear, for when we drop that fear to talk to fellow zoos, we drop all our 'shields' and 'shells' we put up against even our closest non-zoo friends. [Intro to Eagle Eyes | My plan to gain acceptance | My True Story | Flames] My Plan to Gain Acceptance From Non-Zoos I sincerely believe it is possible to remain safely anonymous (especially if you use Rocketmail as I do, not giving them a true name) and still ask for acceptance on the web, but we must be very cautious. It is more than fear that keeps us from advertising our zoo experience with non-zoos; it is our shield of our own private lives. We share a special kinship with each other, but only to each other ... and I strongly feel it should always remain that way, even when we gain acceptance from non-zoos. I have heard several zoos comment on what I strongly feel myself: we cannot advertise to gain membership, nor should we try. Becoming a zoo is something one does with no encouragement. It is simply the true destiny for about (if numbers I have are received are right) .001% of people. That leaves 99.999% of people whose destiny lies somewhere else. Zoophilia is not just a way of life, it is a major part of who we are. If someone were to somehow 'cure' us of our zoophilia, we would not be the same. If nobody minds, I'd like to relate a non-zoo story revealed to me from a (non-zoo) friend that puts this in perspective. I'll leave him safely anonymous and refer to him as 'Raymond' (not his true name), but I hope he someday chooses to share his story with the world. Raymond was black and poor (hey, what am I saying -- is still black and still poor!), and as a young teen with nothing to do and no hope, fell into the trap of gangs, drugs, crime, and violence. He spent time in jail, and saw many of his friends die from violence. He met a girl from across the country visiting his hometown, and fell in love. She went back home, and he decided to leave his hometown to pursue her. When Raymond caught up with her, he thought she was his ultimate destiny, but things fell apart after a few months. They went their separate ways. He had already bought a house, but was considering moving back home when he noticed kids playing on the street. Not being rich, of course, he was living in another poor neighborhood. He thought back to his life as a youth, and didn't want the same fate to befall the children, so started talking with the kids. They said they had nothing to do, no money to do anything. He realized what path they had been forced on and decided to change their lives. He challenged the kids to come up with a list of things they wanted to do, even if they cost money. They did, and some of the things they wanted to do was to go to a (somewhat expensive) water amusement park and to visit a zoo, but they didn't even have the money to do that. So, Raymond organized them to wash cars and do other fund-raisers to get the money to go; they did, went, and enjoyed it all the more because they had worked at it. A person from the Safe Streets program heard about Raymond and contacted him. He suggested Raymond organize the kids to help clean up their neighborhood and surrounding parks, etc. Raymond followed the suggestion, and the kids loved it! They were doing good, keeping out of trouble, and enjoying themselves doing it! It worked out great. I met Raymond in my Journalism class. He was quiet, always keeping to himself. I knew of none of this. We were assigned to interview each other's life stories, and he related all of this to me. (Mine was very boring by comparison, it was all before I had discovered my zoophilia, and as many of you fellow zoos probably know yourselves, we wandered aimlessly before discovering our true selves -- and even if I knew about being a zoo, I certainly didn't want it exposed as a possible news story!). I asked him several questions as a part of the interview, and one of the questions I asked was what would he change about his life if he'd change anything. He said: "Absolutely nothing." Guess why he didn't say he would have stayed out of so much trouble as a youth. He told me if he hadn't done that as a youth, he would never have stopped and talked to those kids. He knew his destiny lay in flying across the country, but it wasn't with that girl. Fate works in funny ways sometimes, doesn't it? Anyway, the moral of the (true) story is: if it is scientifically proven that zoophilia is the result of a genetic anomaly or some disease or disorder or something, so what? It is a part of who we are. Our lives are not at risk because of being zoos, and we risk no one else's lives [except the pocketbooks of greedy developers wanting to destroy habitats of the creatures we love or poachers! :-)] nor infringe on anyone else's rights. I have yet to meet an ill-willed or unkind zoo. In fact, in my own personal life, I have noticed myself becoming far more sociable with my non-zoo friends, family, and coworkers since I have discovered my zoophilia and accepted it. So my plan: we should organize to visit frequented general-news sites. Give no details about our lives, just enough to explain what being a zoo is and why we should be accepted. Calm, rational words, with no graphic details of our experiences or anything. And we can still retain anonymity. We may get flamed, but so what? Flamers are all bark and little substance. As long as we remain anonymous, there is nothing flamers can do ... except address our points and try to debate them. And if any non-zoo somehow manages to raise a valid point against us, we will respond to it in kind: with rational answers addressing their point. Anybody with me? Here's a special note, added at the *very last minute*: Last night (Thursday, April 4), received an e-mail from a zoo friend (I'll call him Steve ... that is neither his true name nor his true handle; I am carefully avoiding trying to embarrass you, 'Steve') who was having an on-line relationship with a non-zoo homosexual. From what he told me, they talked to each other about plushies -- sexual relations with toy animals. His friend became uncomfortable and stopped sending him messages, then telling Steve a few days later that he wanted to break off the relationship because he felt uncomfortable. Although he never told me, I can only assume they had a friendly on-line relationship for quite some time. Steve was understandably hurt, and e-mailed me about it, saying how pissed off he was at his friend. Now, I myself have been known to lose it once in awhile, and I've had more than my fair share of out-of-control rage toward others, but I've had to learn to deal with it. With my newfound zoo kindred, I have a lot of people I can turn to. I'm very glad "Steve" turned to me before doing something he might regret. I told Steve he should let himself calm down and think about his friendship. Folks, no matter how hard some of us try to avoid it, we are all human. We have very complex emotions and unlike our wonderful partners, we don't deal with them well. I don't have to tell my kindred zoos that all animals are inherently open and honest; they do not hesitate to display love, anger, fear, or pain. We humans have to be less intelligent about our emotions, though ... we bottle them up and let them tear us and our relationships apart. I think we zoophiles, as a group, are far more emotional than the average person. Those emotions run deep, and we must deal with them. I'm no psychologist, but I know what a driving force emotion is in my own life. Until I found fellow zoos, I thought nobody would ever be able to understand the feelings I have ... not so-called psychologists or counselors or my own parents. I welled up all of my emotions until I exploded on several occaisions (see my True Story). I didn't feel close enough to anyone at the time to release my emotions to. I do now. I feel extremely close to all my fellow zoos. If I ever have a strong emotional episode, I know where I can turn to. Folks, I hope all of you realize that too. Turn to me. Turn to your best on-line zoo friend (that you aren't having a spat with!). Let it all go. You (if you're like me) already love giving away all your feelings toward animals to other zoos; why not your other emotions too? We are all closer to each other than any other people. Not even married couples and best friends are as close as we are to each other. Use that to your advantage. And I know I don't have to tell you how to react when someone turns to you for help. We all have similar difficulties, we all have deep feelings, and I'm fairly certain we've all been hurt at one time or another. Don't just tell them the tired cliches that things will work out for themselves. Help them, try and balance out their feelings and get them through whatever crisis it is ... be it hate crimes or a relationship that went sour or someone who was discovered and didn't want to be. Make sure they don't do something they might regret later. And to 'Steve': I truly hope things will work out for you and your friend. I'm no Dr. Ruth, and I wasn't planning to add anything like this when I started writing Eagle Eyes, but after seeing how hurt Steve was, I've decided to add a "Dear Abby"-kinda section for the next issue. If you would like to submit something, just put "Problem I'd like resolved in Eagle Eyes" in the title. I may respond personally or turn to some old pros for help if I don't have a clue. And remember to turn to your best zoo friend, too, if it's something requiring an immediate response. Well, now that I've gotten that off my chest, let's move on... [can't wait to get a bitch in heat on my chest! ;-)] [Intro to Eagle Eyes | My plan to gain acceptance | My True Story | Flames] My True Story This is basically a re-post of my earlier story, but it is not the exact same text; this is greatly expanded and is basically my biography. Perhaps it is not wise to post it in a newsgroup, but I fear no flames (read Flames). Non-zoos reading through this news article: Warning: this does describe sexual acts in graphic detail. Every bit of this story is true (except I have changed names to protect people, and some of the dates/times I'm not too sure about; I have a poor memory) My childhood was rough. From early on, people recognized me as being different. My kindergarten teacher described me to my parents like this: "(He) marches to the beat of his own drum." Not necessarily a good or bad thing. It had its good and bad points; overall, probably leaning toward the bad (but not too much). Because I was different and didn't follow the accepted rules of my peers, I played with girls at an early age. I was often called a sissy (and sometimes outright a girl), but I heeded advice and ignored those people. In my later grammar-school years (mostly after I changed schools after the third grade), those comments changed to being a nerd, a geek, and a certain unflattering reference to a movie in which the main character shares my name and is more than slightly odd (no way in hell, pardon my tongue, am I giving away the title or my name here). I fooled around with numerous partners in my pre-pubescent years, both male and female. I never considered animals. I even experimented a couple times with my younger sister, and we were caught once by my parents ... it was the one beating I'll remember no matter how fuzzy my memory gets! I tried once more with my sister during puberty, but ceased when she started having periods (she was a year younger than I). Many people say my sister and I were reversed: I, being quiet and shy [you wouldn't believe it now, would you? :-)], should have been the girl and my sister, being the tomboy, aggressive and loving frogs and snakes (my interest in animals had yet to develop), should have been the boy. Despite my reputation as a nerd, I was doing miserably in school. I would get bored in my classes because they weren't challenging me. My grades contrasted each other greatly: I received a great many A's and F's, but few in between. This continued, unfortunately, throughout all my schools, and is only now in my final quarter in college beginning to change. I detested violence, and was often on the receiving end of bullies. I discovered I had an unusual way of handling things compared to others: I ignored aggressions initiated by others until I reached a boiling point and exploded. After being bullied and teased for years, I 'exploded' several times toward the end of grammar school. I, never being an athlete and admittedly a bit of a weakling, knocked out a kid completely when he was harassing me from behind. I grabbed him, flipped him completely over my head, and slammed him hard on the tile floor. He must have hit his head or something because he was out cold. I have never taken any self-defense or martial arts classes; it must have been pure adrenaline, I didn't even think about doing it. Besides that, I think I threw a total of three punches in grammar school, all of them aggravated, but one was by the most meaningless of teases (it was the straw that broke the camera's back). I sincerely regretted doing all of these, not because I got in trouble, but just because I hated harming anyone. I nonetheless withdrew into several deep "shells" against the outside world, and by junior high, I was sent to numerous school counselors. At the time, I thought it was "normal" to see counselors; it was all arranged by my parents and teachers. The end of grade school was, of course, not the end of the bickering. Junior high was far worse. The most intense incident took place in band. A girl I had never met smashed a flute over my head on the way out of band class ... no warning, she just came from behind, and wham-o. A flood of other sevies (yes, that was when I was a "sevie" -- seventh grader for those of you who missed the experience) was there before I knew it. The girl was charging at me again; I gathered she was trying to prove herself to someone by beating up a nerd or something. I knocked the flute out of her hands as she tried to swing it at me again, then swung a fist hard at her. Unfortunately, it landed square in her breast (believe you me, it was not intentional and I was only trying to get her to think twice and give me time to leave). She was actually bigger than I was, but she was knocked backwards. I grabbed my books and left with due haste. I got hell when I got home; apparently the girl had told the principal and the principal told my parents. They insisted that I should never hit a girl under any circumstance; I simply said, 'Oh, but it's okay to hit boys?' The issue was dropped surprisingly quickly; my parents knew I didn't pick fights (though I did keep it going with my sister occasionally). That was the last fight I'd been in (except with my sister). Bullies turned their attentions to each other; it was no longer macho to pick on a nerd and a wimp like me. In that very same band class, I met a good friend who I'll call Jacob (not his real name). We actually had a mutual friend and had seen each other in band for quite some time without really knowing each other. The mutual friend had mentioned something about Jacob earlier, but I had no idea it was this 'Jacob' (his real name was fairly common, and I had a tough time remembering names anyway). We were both surprised to find out we were the mutual friend's "other friend" [uhhh... peter piper picked a peck of ... never mind! ;-)]. We became very close friends. He spent the night at my house one night when I was 14 or 15 (I think), and we stayed up late playing Nintendo well after my parents went to bed. We lied through our teeth to each other about exploits with girls and what-not. We turned off the Nintendo and sat in bed talking. I can't remember the exact words, but he said something like "Do you want to screw?" I thought he was joking, so I 'kidded' him back: "Sure, let's do it!" I said, and jokingly crawled into bed with him. I was surprised to find he wasn't kidding when I felt his hard cock on my underpants. "Come on, strip," he said (again, or something to that effect), so I did. It was my first true sexual encounter (beyond just experimentation). I had fooled around homosexually as a younger child, but other than that I was completely inexperienced. We basically sucked each other's cocks individually, then 69'ed, then had anal sex with each other. It hurt somewhat with him, because his cock was short but fairly wide around. I, on the other hand, was somewhat long but skinny. He talked me into French kissing; it was the first time I had ever tried it. I was repulsed by the idea at first (how could I be; I had been sucking his cock? But, I was), but liked it soon and well enough. I cummed for the very first time in my life later that night, right in his mouth, but he did not enjoy it (he did not do the same to me). We fucked around until about four in the morning, when my father's alarm clock went off across the house. We quickly donned our underwear and I crawled back down quietly and into a sleeping bag. We made a point for him to sleep over often, without our 'mutual friend' (neither of us had a sexual encounter with him, and neither of us wanted to come out to anyone). We were never caught; to this day, my parents have never suspected. Unfortunately, about the time I was 16 or 17, Jacob's mother (he had no father) found a good job a long ways away, and they had to move. We stayed in touch, and managed to get two more encounters, but the relationship faded away. During the time we were together, I started masturbating. I didn't do it all that often, but I did it to pass the time when we weren't together. I began having odd fantasies, too -- often with him, but sometimes even more bizarre. I fantasized about having sex with animals -- but in all those dreams I, too, was an animal. The dreams were not cartoon-like, but the animals had human-like qualities and spoke (I can't remember anything specific they said). I dreamt about horses mainly. My life was going nowhere. With my poor grades, most colleges were not within reach (because I didn't qualify for scholarships and my parents were [and still are] in debt). I took a couple tests like the SAT and ACT, but didn't fare all that well. On a spur-of-the-moment kinda thing, I took the ASVAB. I thought I'd score low, especially when seeing the questions about auto-mechanics and noticing the English, science and math questions were easy and meant to not be the focus. Surprise, surprise, surprise (in a Gomer-Pyle kinda voice): I scored a 96. 40 is passing for most services; 50 is considered pretty good; 70 was downright smart. A score of 96 was very rare. I was flooded with phone calls (in today's terms I guess you'd call it megatons of spam) from all the services. Again, on a spur-of-the-moment kinda thing, I signed up with the Navy. I'll e-mail the details of my short military experience if anyone's interested, but here is the very condensed version of it. I went to boot camp at Great Lakes, IL; I did okay at first; I got sick; had my first true heterosexual sex with another recruit after standing watch at night (both of us were); Got sicker (not because of the sex); began falling behind in basic training; got sent to basically a remedial military procedures unit; failed that; blundered my way around and got sent to separations; had some really bad experiences there and was sent home. Before joining the military, I didn't much care for my family, thought I didn't need them. Things changed big time for me during boot camp; I know realize how important my family (including my nagging sister, who, [Pyle voice again] Surprise, surprise, surprise, joined the Marine Corps and enjoyed the hell out of it despite knee surgery and having an ovary removed after a cancer was discovered). Speaking of my sister, as I write this, she is flying home for a few weeks. She works as a graphics artist somewhere in New Orleans, Louisiana (she fell in love with the Cajun culture). Basically it means she sits around all day on a $5000 computer the USMC gave her (she gets to keep it even if she leaves the Corps) and draws logos and things. Anyhow, back to the story of my life. I was incredibly depressed after boot camp (okay, technically speaking, I got depressed in the middle of boot camp ... it was discovered months after my discharge by a civilian doctor that a rare but easily detectable and treatable systemic infection caused the depression but the military docs somehow 'missed it', [Pyle again] surprise, surprise, surprise!), seeing nothing in my future. My parents used some money they had set aside to put me through college (which I am now approaching the end of my two-year degree). I hadn't learned to drive yet (my parents couldn't afford driving school at the legal age in my state of 16). Getting the license was easy, but getting a job was tougher. Things were looked incredibly dim for me; I thought I'd end up flipping burgers for the rest of my life when I wanted to work with computers. I had no sexual activity other than masturbation for the longest time. I had never been on a date, and I wasn't about to embarrass myself by starting out then, and I really wasn't interested in girls, since, pardon me female zoos, most of them around here are complete airheads. I had received many flirts in high school ... apparently not everyone was turned off by my uniqueness. I never took any of it, though. The fling in Boot Camp was mutually just a fling. We were both trying to relieve ourselves of the incredible pressures welling up from so much discipline-enforced repression. I never heard from my friend again; I called his last-known phone number, but got the 'wrong number' thing ... several times, so I finally gave up. I didn't want to risk advertising my bisexual feelings by asking around, so I just kept myself from having sex; I thought it would be no big deal. I lied to my friends about it, but the truth was I was hungering for something. I began to have intense and strange fantasies again, but this time I was human and the animals were as animals truly are -- communicating in their own way, not in a human way at all. The fantasies sickened me from all the taboos and shame I had learned were on bestiality. I couldn't help it; I began to get depressed again thinking I was destined to be some deviant who would be locked up for life. I began to cave into my fantasies a little at a time. I would look for animal shows on PBS or the Discovery channel, really looking for animals mating. I found a few, and let myself get caught up in the moment, running to the bathroom with the images in my mind and masturbating. I began masturbating almost every night. My mind swayed from guilt to feeling like I was bound up tight and needed to free myself. I had always been one to give pets attention, but I became even more attentive. I would sit for hours, petting our three cats (sadly, two now; one died of old age and her littermate is nearing that stage as well). The summer before last, we had new neighbors move into a new house across the street. They brought with them a medium-sized male dog they had picked up as a stray where they lived last. He was very friendly, and giving him some of the best backscratches he'd ever received made him come to me for attention as much as them. When others were around, I would resist his attempts to lick my face, but in private I would hunker down to let him do it, but I still prevented myself from even letting him lick my mouth. Last spring (or so), I finally caved in to my true feelings. I waited for the right moment, when his owners were away and my parents were too. He approached me, and I let him follow me on the walkway to our house. Instead of going inside, and letting him take his usual spot to rest after following me outside the door, I turned and opened the door to the garage, inviting him in there. I followed him, and closed and locked the door. At first, I just gave him backsratches, but I moved my hands to his belly and massaged him there. He liked it a lot, and I let him 'reward me' by licking my face -- and this time I let him lick inside my mouth, which he did. It was really turning me on. I moved my hand and felt his cock; of course, having no experience, I didn't know what to do or how it was supposed to feel, but I felt no balls like I had seen (and paid attention to) on other dogs, so I suspected he had been neutered. I nonetheless masturbated him, and between the taste of him licking inside my mouth and feeling his cock, I was really getting swept away with passion. I pulled off my pants, underwear, shoes and socks. He was panting quite a bit, and it didn't take long for him to sniff my crotch and "play" with my cock with his tongue. He really did little more than lap at it sporadically, but it was enough to increase the heat of the moment for me. I went back to letting him lick the inside of my mouth, but this time I played with his tongue with my own, licking around his chops and such. I moved my head toward his crotch, but he growled in warning before I got too close, so I stopped. I certainly didn't want to do something he didn't want me to do. I knew how dogs greeted each other, so I decided to give it a try (remember, this was before I had been on the Internet at all and long before I had been to a zoo site, so I didn't know about the dangers of tapeworm, etc.) It wasn't what I had expected -- to taste like what shit smelled like; it was instead very pleasant, and he and I both enjoyed it immensely. I was approaching my maximum erection, so I decided to make the final maneuver. I gave him a very affectionate backstretch, and he lifted his wagging tail, and I entered him. As I did so, I leaned over his back. I felt his tail wag against my chest, and he turned his head slightly. I managed to hold my penetration and support my head and torso with my hands flat against the floor, pushup style, and allow him to lick my face as I came fully. I couldn't see, of course, but I felt myself ejaculating more cum than I had ever done in my life. It just kept coming, and every passing moment of it brought such release and feeling of kinship with the animal. After my last spurt crammed into his ass, I withdrew, exhausted from the experience and yet feeling so incredibly good. He lapped at my quickly-limping cock, enjoying every last bit of my cum. The cum dripping out of his ass worried me though; I didn't know what my parents would think it was, but I didn't want them to guess. Sensing it was over, he stood by the door, and I let him out. I closed and locked the door again, redressed, and wiped up the gobs of my cum off the floor. I thought he might hate me or something after that, after reading how sexual contact with children at a young age, even so-called consentual, led to a life of violence, et cetra. Of course, I was wrong. He and I grew closer together, and I enjoyed several such sexual couplings with him throughout the summer, but the opportunities were often weeks apart. Nonetheless, they were so meaningful and such a release to me I instantly stopped my masturbation which had become a habit I was disgusted with (fortunately, no one has ever caught me; my sister had teased that I was masturbating when I severely sprained my wrist falling down, but that was some time before I actually was). My canine companion is still next door to this day, but he has become mostly unavailable, unfortunately. His masters were ordered to keep him penned up in their backyard after someone in the neighborhood called Animal Control about a dog who had bitten a child. It couldn't have been him; his masters have many young kids and he is a very gentle dog. But, alas, he is usually penned up, and I am often gone now too, as I have been through many full-time jobs along with full-time school. Also during the summer and in the heat of my love with the dog, I began to think about having sexual relationships with other animals. One day, seemingly on instinct, when the dog wasn't available for sex, I took a walk down a path that ran through undeveloped land I'd been on with other neighborhood kids when we were kids (sorry if that doesn't make sense!). The path I knew led to a large pasture, partially forested at the end far from the farmhouse, with lots of cows and horses. I grabbed a small bag of apples we'd had for awhile that was in our garage in preparation for any encounter. As I approached the barbwire fence and walked along it to the usual crossover point, a series of supports for the barbwire lines that double as a sort of makeshift stepladder over, an Arabian mare (it didn't take long for me to realize she was a mare; I had strolled through enough pastures including this very one) emerged from a distant barn, heading straight for me at a slow pace. I patiently waited to see what she'd do. She eyed me curiously as she approached. She came right up to me and sniffed me. I was so enthralled I almost forgot about the apples. I grabbed one, and she pulled back at my sudden movement, but took it appreciatively from my hand. I emptied the bag of apples over the fence on her side, and stroked her neck as she fed. She neighed softly as I did so, but did nothing but feast. I had a rough time at petting her; she was just close enough to the fence to prevent me from being able to swing over to her side. I felt nervous and couldn't bring myself to, even after she backed off slightly from the fence and looked at me. She wasn't frightened of me; she seemed more than a little curious now. She turned ninety degrees as if to let me have a good look at her as she began munching on some grass (she had completely eaten the dozen or so apples by this time). I was so very enthralled just watching her, admiring her powerful muscles and unmatched grace. Nothing described her better than absolutely beautiful. A sudden distant noise distracted me; it was the sound of the screen door on the farmhouse. I'd had an encounter with the family as a young kid, and they were not friendly people. The mare turned her head to see (she was facing away from them), then turned to face me an neigh as if in warning about them. I disheartedly agreed, and picked up the empty plastic sack and trudged home. What, no jumping over the fence and doing her right there? Wouldn't that make the story more interesting? It probably would, but like I said, I am being completely honest here. I never did take her; that was as close as I got. I had a similar encounter with a doe also that summer; I think it was a few weeks afterward, but I'm not sure. Ask me about it if you like, but I didn't make it with her, either. In fact, that dog has been my one true zoosexual encounter, though I really do lust in my heart and my mind for many animals. As I became familiar with the Internet at school, I sought out porn, but nothing really worked for me like the porn labeled 'bestiality.' The only place I could find it for free was 1hot1's samples, which I later learned were nearly all illegally copied by 1hot1. I downloaded all the images and brought them home to view and print on my computer in the middle of the night (we have what was a superior machine, a Pentium-90, but it had no Internet connections and may not have for quite some time as our finances are getting so poor we had to cancel expanded cable; fortunately the cable company let us keep the Discovery channel and an all new adventure for me, appropriately titled: Animal Planet). About January of this year, after typing "bestiality" (and its commonly misspelled variant, "beastiality") into Yahoo, I stumbled onto a zoo page. No animal porn, just a lot of questions and answers and very useful info. (I can't remember which one it was). I rubbed my eyes; I couldn't believe what I was reading. There were others who enjoyed animals like me? Not just forcing sex on them to make boocoo bucks? Sexual and spiritual relationships? I thought I was hallucinating. The bestiality porn pictures I had downloaded earlier (my favorite was actually of an Arabian stallion in proximity to a mare, very erect with the only human female in the picture holding him still by his collar, giving a clear view of his very huge cock) were little better than something to masturbate with. I found stories on the sight that gave me instant erections and described feelings exactly like mine. I was completely flabbergasted and speechless. This almost cost me; I was sitting in my usual spot in a back corner against a wall, with the monitor slightly turned so nobody could see. Someone spotted my gaping and wandered over to ask/see what I had found. Moments before they got to me, I got quickly to my senses and clicked the X to close NetScape. Time to put on a poker face. "Dammit ... I hate that 'Illegal' error message kicking me out!" (It was a common error that had frustrated many, including me in the middle of typing out an e-mail for twenty minutes!) It was a Pentium-60 machine with a very slow connection, and it seemed to take forever to get it to disappear off the screen. The person managed to glimpse text on the screen before it disappeared. "What'd you find?" they asked. "Oh, a NASA news thing. I just surfed there from Yahoo, so I didn't even get to keep the Address. Hate it when that happens," I said, knowing the person knew of my interest in space exploration. They bought it. When they left, I followed the same Yahoo links back to the zoo page. I also found a link to something called "furry"; I had no idea what it was but I gave it a try; I am now a frequent visitor to http://www.furnation.com. Since then, a whole new computer lab has been added: Pentium-100s with networked NetScape. There was one minor difference that changed things even better for me: unlike the older ones, these ones could do newsgroups. It wasn't common knowledge, and the only thing I knew about newsgroups is that they wouldn't run on the other machines, and I didn't even try it on the new ones for an entire month. As I grasped the newsgroup setup, I found alt.binaries.pictures.erotica.animals and alt.binaries.pictures.erotica.bestiality. Occasionally, amid the useless spam (when does 'free bestiality pics' ever mean free bestiality pics? Absolutely never!) and flames, I found more pictures. The spam actually did serve a purpose; it was sent to so many groups I just had to click to get to alt.sex.zoophilia -- it was not a valid newsgroup, unfortunately (what did happen to it, anyway?). But alt.sex.bestiality was. And right there was a newsgroup FAQ explaining that this was NOT the place for bestiality pics; it was a meeting place for zoos. BINGO! Nonetheless, I just perused through it until a few weeks ago. I was woefully disappointed; all that was here was useless spam, some flames to posts that had long since gone, and some true bestialists seeking people with animals to screw. Not what I wanted at all. Eventually I set up an anonymous e-mail account at RocketMail, the very one I am using now (I do have a non-zoo e-mail account I have been using for a long time at HotMail, but I don't want people who know me from the other account to know I'm a zoo, so that's why I have two separate accounts). I set up the id info into Netscape, typed "Anonymous Zoo" as my name (or something like that), and voile! I responded to a couple things that did seem 'serious' about a week ago, my very first post to a.s.b., and made several new newsgroup posts of my own. (See the bottom of this article for info on my new zoo handle) The response was almost immediate and such a relief. I felt an instant kinship with all zoos. I had received other e-mail from a lot of other people (at my HotMail account), but most of them couldn't spell worth beans and never saw things the way I did. Reading these e-mails, I had to double-check who they were from and my memory to make sure I hadn't sent them to myself! Of all the different groups and cliques, I think us zoos would be the best fit for a stereotype. There are a few minor differences, mostly due to different backgrounds and experience levels. Compared to most, I am still a newbie. And yet I feel I have known these fellow zoos all my life ... as if we all share one mind or something. It's actually still a little spooky to me, but I feel perfectly comfortable sharing even my deepest secrets with someone I have never met before, even on-line. An update from spring break: My life has so much more meaning now that I know my feelings are not a sign that I am some sick, evil, vile person. I cannot say all my guilt and shame over my zoo feelings has gone away; if it had, I wouldn't be hiding my true self from others. We all cling to residue of that guilt and And that's basically it. That's me. Or is it also you, too? One fellow zoo e-mailed me his life story; it was same as mine, nearly to a t! The only differences were he was slightly older, had far more zoo experiences, and was in the Navy slightly longer! :-) I have never met another zoo in person, and from the very low percentage estimates I received from one fellow zoo (about one one-thousandth of a percentile, they estimated), it looks fairly unlikely unless something is set-up on-line. So yahoo to whoever proposed a national zoo organization, I'm all for it! ;-) As promised, regarding my new handle, Eagle. Eagle describes the animal I most feel like as a zoo: high above and distant from the normal crowd; nearly alone in the empty skies; freedom from the constraints of the ground (my guilt, my shame, and all the other negative feelings I had about myself before I found kinship with other zoos). If anyone is already using this handle, please tell me!!! I'll change it -- maybe to "Eagle 2" or whatever -- if someone was using it before me. The title of "Eagle Eyes" for this magazine was a logical next step from my handle. This is my way of letting other zoos and zoo-friends see my perspective on things in the world -- "from my eyes", my "Eagle Eyes!" Kinda sorta catchy, isn't it (even if a scamming sunglass company is using the name for something entirely different). [Intro to Eagle Eyes | My plan to gain acceptance | My True Story | Flames] Flames And Spam: Why they hurt so much at a.s.b Like everything else here, this is just my personal belief (except "My True Story" which, as the title implies, is my true life story!) I've mentioned several times here how close we zoos feel. I'm sure all zoos all feel the same or the first e-mails I received from many of you wouldn't be so extremely personal, intimate, and revealing. We all implicitly trust any zoos, even if we've never met them. We certainly do not trust any non-zoo that way, even our closest family and friends. I reveal my darkest secrets, whether those secrets are zoo or not, to fellow zoos, and I feel perfectly comfortable doing it; I am completely honest with other zoos. I wouldn't consider myself a terribly dishonest person, but I even lie even my parents every once in a while. Why is it we're so close? What binds us together? I am in many cliques, like being a Star Trek fan, for instance. I certainly don't feel like revealing anything about myself to other Trekkers except my love of Star Trek. I don't tell them the dirty dark secrets about what I did with my sister; I tell no one that but zoos (or post it anonymously here in the open). It is because we all *know* each other, even if we never meet. We share one mind, one spirit. We, of course, are individuals, but our thoughts are one. We are in completely perfect harmony together. In a.s.b. and e-mailing each other; in basically every way of communicating with each other on the Internet, we feel we are essentially communicating with ourselves and just thinking together. Flamers, Spammers. These violate and strongly disturb that thinking together. Our oneness and our thinking alike is our safety blanket. Communication is the only outlet to eliminate our guilt and shame of ourselves. Having a foreign intrusion into that communications affects us because we are so exposed. It's like the crew of a submarine: when they come out of the sub to see their families, they are open to attack by enemies. Any foreigner, even a well-meaninged spammer (if there is such a thing), is perceived a threat to us. So how do we use this? Obviously, we can't control other people and the spam and flames will thus always be there. We have to learn to accept it, to disregard it and set it aside. It is not part of us, but we must realize it cannot harm us, no matter how much we think it might. It's like getting a shot -- the pain of the needle isn't what is desired; the medicine in the needle is, but we have to feel the pain to get to it. We have to accept the pain of the intrusions, no matter how blatantly disruptive they are. From my years of experience at being bullied, I have learned that the well-known tactic of ignoring an adversary and they will get bored and quit does not work all of the time. At the same time, you don't want to aggravate them further by responding to their hatemongering attacks against you. I've found the best way to frustrate them off is to embarrass them. If they have the common flaming intellect, "thank" them for their "well-thought out message" and "well-structured and clearly-stated points." In other words, be sarcastic ... be very sarcastic. More powerful than any nuclear device, more useful than all of the world's knowledge combined is humor! There is no defense, no hiding from its effects once unleashed, and it cannot hurt anyone other than its target. Humiliate them, laugh with them (not at them) and at their "jokes." Tell them they deserve to be published, and post their e-mail at the a.s.b. (but be careful to remove their names or e-mail addresses, humiliating them without giving them reason to do anything but leave). It has worked thus far for me! Plus, all in all, I have received on the average about 20 good, solid e-mails / responses for every flame. Not including zoos, it's about three or four to one. I was happy to answer some questions about zoos from non-zoos who had stumbled onto my posts (I wonder how they can 'stumble' onto a newsgroup like alt.sex.bestiality without being able to guess at its contents, but it is a question I don't feel I should ask them!) Well, this concludes the very first issue of "Eagle Eyes" (not affiliated in any way with those fake rip-off sunglasses). Hope you liked it! Please title all responses to articles appropriately, or just put "Re: Eagle Eyes #X" (with an appropriate number for X) in the subject lines to help me sort through the many but useful e-mails I receive. My other e-mail account at HotMail is my way of communicating through dozens of other subjects, but even combined it doesn't come close to the volume of pure zoo e-mails I receive here! I love it, but it does take me time to sort through all of it. Also, along the same lines, please do not give up on me. Ever. I do solemnly swear to answer at least all non-flame e-mail, but it may take time. As you can see from the length of this newsletter, I take a lot of time to respond to each individual e-mail; this is in fact a way I am cutting my time by putting many thoughts to where all zoos can see it instead of personally e-mailing all of you; I really don't want to mass-email; its too impersonal for people I feel so close to. If something comes up, like I won't be able to respond to e-mail for a while or something, then I'll mass-email, but rarely will I do so under any other circumstances. Unless you want me to mass e-mail Eagle Eyes to all of you instead of posting it on the a.s.b.! Also, be sure to mention whether or not you want your name/handle to be published in the next issue. I'd like to share the best of the responses I receive (pro- or con- my viewpoints) in every issue (obviously I couldn't here since this is the premier issue!) and attribute them (I will attribute responses anonymously if not given express permission; I will also abide by any requests to not publish something at all). Note that I probably will not include every response in the next issue, since there are so many zoos. I will try to make it a fair sampling, however. [Intro to Eagle Eyes | My plan to gain acceptance | My True Story | Flames] And here's a bit of humor, inspired by a fellow zoo who noted he's in a "stable relationship": Being a zoo puts a lot of expressions in a whole new light ... like "Out to pasture," "Born to be wild," and "Good neigh bors" [note the word split :-)]. And here's a zoo graphic I created. You are free to do with it as you wish; I claim no copyright to it. What lies ahead for upcoming issues of Eagle Eyes: Much better planning and organization, for one! Whew, this first issue is a real mess, but I just wanted to get it out. I promise I'll do a much better job on the next one! I'm going to try writing some Word Macros to handle hypertext jumps around the document (external links would still be impossible, though). A look into the history of zoophilia / bestiality. Where / when did the term "zoophilia" originate? Right now, I haven't a clue, but I'm going to find out! I'm going to give as detailed and as accurate a picture as I possibly can. A detailed listing of zoo resources on the net, from where the FAQs and PIPs are to the newsgroups (what did happen to alt.sex.zoophilia anyway?) I'd also like to include ramblings, ORIGINAL new true stories and/or fiction (there are a lot of good ones out there on the 'net ... I want some new, fresh stuff!) Also, a "Dear Abby" kinda-like [that's very eloquent technical jargon too complex to be understood ;-)] section in which I (hopefully) help zoos through some tough issues. I'll probably delegate many of these to more experienced zoos, but I'll take what I can. I'll probably call it "The Eagle's Ear" or something like that. I need webspace I can put this and all future issues of "Eagle Eyes". It won't take much space ... for the short term, just a couple megabytes of disk space would suffice. I do have a GeoCities account, but I've heard horror stories about them and Zoo pages. If anyone would care to donate a directory and some space, please drop me a line! Anonzoo@rocketmail.com
  8. Some of you may be familiar with Hani's work and studies. Myself and many other old timers met with Hani in '96 at a zoo gathering when she began her studies to participate in her focus group which she recounts in part in this series which I think may of been posted in one of the news groups or zoo mailing lists like Zeta-L. Enjoy! -Ren
  9. The Secret Life of Zoophiles Part 3 What you don't know about sex with animals. By Hani Miletski, Ph.D. I asked what's the difference between kids and animals when it comes to sex. -- "Kids are not mature." -- "For me, it's dealing with, literally dealing with, a mature adult of another species who is my equal. I don't view an animal as inferior, or me as superior to him . . . and a kid, any immature adult, be it a kid, an [immature] animal, the mental equipment, the nerve paths, whatever you want to call it, they aren't well enough conformed to make . . . a good decision . . ." -- "I agree that animals are, I see an animal as my equal . . ." -- "How can you sexually consider a child to be an informed equal? If they are not capable of making what has been called an informed decision, then, no, they should not be involved in any way whatsoever. Whether they're four or 40." -- "Back to the Humane Society thing, they like to consider animals as children, for some strange, ungodly reason . . ." -- "As soon as they say that, then we get all flustered . . . because it's very difficult to express the fact that children are children, and animals are fucking not kids! OK? They're not human beings . . . and people who do make the, and do try and draw an equality there, first of all, it's really, it's offensive in a way that, I consider that to be demeaning to the animal, because that's like saying that it, equating a horse, a stallion, like . . . who's a lover of mine, equating him with some kid who doesn't know what the heck is going on . . ." -- "Well, if we also remember, the one reason . . . to equate animals as children, children make a wonderful political tool, media weapon . . ." -- "The Humane Society's going to compare animals to children . . . I'd like to see how the . . . Humane Society would feel about people eating children (laughter)." -- ". . . I guess I've gotten a lot more bitter, the longer I've been a vegetarian. I don't know but it's like I, when I see a person eating meat, it's like, not that it just could be my lover, but that was a conscious being that could react the same way we've all been talking about, and experienced love . . ." -- ". . . It goes back to the assumption that people who have sex with animals are these drooling, mentally, three-hearted people who are idiots and things, no self-control. I was having lunch with a friend of mine and I'm talking about how I'd like to get a job in a horse stable that was in town, and he said, 'Well, are you planning on telling the owner that you have sex with animals?' And I said, 'Well, no!' And he goes, 'Well, you have to!' And I said, 'Why?' And he goes, 'Just warn him that you're having sex with his animals.' And I said, 'What makes you think I'm going to have sex with his animals?'" -- "There are plenty of male gynecologists in the world who have female patients . . . I got fired from my last job in an animal hospital because I was a zoophile. The only sheep that I touched was to put beta dye on it for its surgery. Never did anything sexual to an animal there. And I lost my job because of my sexuality, though I never did anything sexually related." -- "There's also that whole other issue of, you may be in a stable or other situation with lots of animals around. That doesn't mean that every one of them is attractive to you. I see dogs running all over the place and there are a lot of them that I'm attracted to, but a lot of them are not . . ." -- ". . . I'm living as an exclusive zoo, my God, almost all my life. As far as explaining, I've already outed myself to my sister, and my God, she sat down and smoked four cigarettes, chain-smoked them. I was like just shaking that whole night. But she understood and said she still loved me, but never to tell my parents. Hani, I made the horrible mistake of printing that article talking about you, asking for volunteers, and lo and behold I was visiting . . . and they [my parents] came to clean my house and found it." -- "Holy shit!" -- "I'd hate to think what would happen if somebody got into my computer." -- "My friend was very lucky, he had a psychiatrist tell the judge there's nothing wrong with it [having sex with animals] . . . he only got off with probation, but he got hours of community time, he lost his federal job, his horse and his career was destroyed." -- "I . . . had therapy when I was 14. I initially got caught when I was 14. I went through the court system as a juvenile and was put on probation . . . I ran away from home after getting caught having sex with a couple different German Shepherds. And the therapist . . . was absolutely non-judgmental . . . we worked on the issues of why . . . it was a very positive experience. And then I had another experience, when I was about 20, with another therapist who had a completely different paradigm in mind . . . it was an addiction paradigm . . . and I had a really hard time trying to apply that to myself . . . he thought I should categorize myself in this. I could understand the dynamics of, you're into zoophilia, it's pretty easy to feel isolated, and perhaps you can use the sex as a way of medicating yourself, but I just couldn't. There was no reason. I had a dog, I already had a very intense emotional bond, and he was like, 'You've got to get rid of your dog.' And I was like, 'No way. I'm not getting rid of my dog.'" -- "I did therapy when I was early teens . . . I had started talking about suicide one morning and it helped out . . . there was about 20 years or so where basically I dealt with the guilt feelings I was having by suppressing most of my emotions and finding people [on the Internet] to talk to was what allowed me to open up the guilt, to feel safe to deal emotionally with [my zoophilia]" I asked: "What was your psychiatrist's reaction?" -- "I never told him. I didn't feel safe to tell him. [We talked about] a lot of other things but I didn't feel safe to tell him [about my zoophilia]." -- (The woman participant said): "I told my shrink just a couple of weeks ago actually and in the context of talking about my [human] partner . . . at the end of [the conversation], I had to say, 'Wait a minute. I just told you that I have sex with animals, and you just . . . it just kind of rolled right along.' And she said, 'Is this a problem for you?' And I said, 'No.' And she said, 'How long have you been coming here?' And I said, 'Way too long (laughter).' And she said, 'I know you well enough to know that if this was a problem for you, you would have brought it up long ago . . .' And that's the last I've ever heard of it . . ." -- "I was talking with one [therapist] . . . and the first thing he wanted to do was lock me up for about a week for observation . . . I know of at least three people... who have been locked up, treated to electroshock therapy, drug therapy, and all that, just because they admitted that yes, they were a zoo . . ." -- "The one time I saw a therapist about it . . . his whole reaction was, 'You should be locked up and will stay that way.' I got up off the couch after that statement, walked out, and . . . personally I would not be tremendously unhappy to see that he had lost his license . . ." I asked if they thought zoophilia and/or bestiality were perversions. -- "Do I think it's a perversion, or right or wrong, or anything like that? I don't think that it's wrong, but what's more, it really doesn't matter. I've come to the conclusion that it's okay to have certain desires, but what is important is how you handle them . . ." -- "So perhaps the question might be rephrased in terms of not perversion per se, but . . . does it produce worries, doubts, or guilt within you?" -- "Is it morally wrong? If it were morally wrong, we wouldn't be here." -- "If you're comfortable with your sexuality and it's not damaging to your partner, and society, then there really shouldn't be anything wrong with it. I hope that's how modern-day psychologists see it, is that you're not hurting your partner. If you're a bestialist, that's debatable, but if you're a zoo, you're not going to hurt your partner and it's not going to hurt society if they don't get out their camcorders and look through the window and get offended by it." -- "In my case, my folks had a book, a textbook on human sexuality, in a bookcase when I was growing up. And since the day I found that book and read about zoophilia, I wasn't doing anything at that time, but I said, 'Whoa, okay.' And I like Greek myths, I thought they were pretty cool, and I knew what my inclination was at that point and I'd never really had any problem with it." -- "I've come to the conclusion with my own self that I'm capable of responding to many different stimuli in an erotic manner and that to apply this sort of morality, some sort of construct of our society to that, these natural feelings that I have, I just can't do that anymore." -- "When I was growing up as a teenager, I was lucky enough: my parents had a copy of Kinsey's report in the house and I looked through it and found references to bestiality and I thought, 'Okay, I'm not alone.' And that was a great help towards dealing with the feelings I was having. I'd often sat down and analyzed -- is what I'm doing wrong? You know, if you follow the biblical interpretation in Leviticus, any person who lays with an animal shall be stoned and the animal put to death as well, which I thought was grossly unfair to the animal." -- "From my standpoint, I don't see how anything I do with an animal that causes the animal enjoyment or pleasure could be construed as wrong. And I see lots of people who think nothing of eating an egg from a chicken that's been confined to a one-foot cage with four other chickens its whole life, and that's not cruelty to animals, but when I insert my genitalia into the animal's genitalia, or vice versa, or however you want to look at it, then that suddenly is an evil thing. And I don't understand . . . it's okay to kill animals, cause them pain, do whatever you want to so you get the desired result from them, whether it's pulling a cart, or providing you with food, but it's not okay to have mutually pleasurable sexual relations." I asked if they would want to change and not be zoophiles. -- "I don't know what it is not to be a zoophile, so I really couldn't say yes or no." -- "Yeah, if I could have from the start not been one, I think I would have rather not been one. But would I choose to change from a zoo into a non-zoo? No." -- "Yes, actually I would. This is probably going to come as a shock. I would because facing what I am and dealing with it and learning to live with it, and I've been in [the] position, I have also sat there and worried if it wouldn't be better just to end it. It's caused me no end of pain . . . I would do it, change it because, to be honest . . . I've been dealing with my zoophilia . . . since I was about 14. I didn't have a word for it until I was 25. I know something was different. But this has caused me more pain in my life and I've never been able to come to grips with it. And I'm still, to this day, fighting it and suffering a lot of pain for it . . ." -- "If I had been given the opportunity I, in fact I lost two opportunities when I was about 24, due to my own inexperience with a woman . . . we were at a party and she asked me, 'Am I your girlfriend?' And being the dumb, inexperienced fool that I was, I was honest and said, 'I don't own anybody. That's your decision if you want to be with me.' Six months later she wound up marrying the man that she was talking about, that wanted to know this. It was really her asking if I wanted a permanent relationship, but I didn't know it until years later . . . so I would have changed for them [the two women/opportunities], but now, and considering where it's led me, I won't, you know, don't look back. I've been comfortable with it." -- "For me, I wouldn't have changed. I'm 23 and I would have never changed . . . I'm really at a crossroads in my life . . . because I have a female friend who would marry me in a second, but, you know, for all the difficulty that it causes, I wouldn't trade my relationship [with animals] for anything, because it's that rich, and it's, it makes me feel that complete to have it." -- "The bonds we have with animals are really unique . . . it's not the same as you could get from a person. I'm married, and I would never change that . . . but, as it is, being a zoo is really important to me, that the feelings that I get when I'm around horses are incredible, and I'm addicted to them. There's no way that I'm going to lose that. If I had to stop having sex with the animals forever, I could deal with that. If I had to live the rest of my life never knowing the feeling of a horse's hide under my hands, or the smell of its breath in my nostrils, or the look of my face reflected in its eyes, I would rather die." -- "It's possible we can change. But I'll always have dogs in my life. Many times I've asked myself the question, 'Would I do anything differently?' And I look and I say, 'You know, if I had to have these impulses, then maybe I wouldn't have experienced confusion and the amount of loneliness I did . . . self hatred for a while. But also I look at how I am now and the journey may have been rough, but I personally like who I am now . . ." -- "In my own case . . . I've gone out with and been involved with a number of very great women, and I've yet to find anyone who showed any indication of tolerance for bestiality, and I'm not going to stay involved with somebody who's not going to be accepting . . ." -- "How do you bring it to your date? You know, honey, by the way, you kept asking why I was out at the barn late all the time . . ." -- "I've told my last two boyfriends that they cannot be everything. That my interests are too great. They don't have hooves, a mane, tail, they can't have paws . . ." <<PBRK>> -- "One thing is, I believe, common to all zoos is that they won't even consider a long-term relationship with a human being unless that human being is fully prepared to accept the zoophilia." -- "That's not true for me. I don't buy that." -- "It is for me. The people here know that there are people who can't accept them . . . I married my wife because I thought it was the best acceptable thing." -- "I can remember when I was 14 years old and I'm having these desires to be with the goats and the dogs and the horses . . . and at the same time thinking, 'How am I ever going to hide from my wife that I'm out, you know, having sex with the horses?'" -- "I was at my grandparents' house and they're like, 'When are you gonna bring your girlfriend over?' so I said, 'I'll bring my dog next time (laughter).' And then next time I brought my dog, and they're like, 'You actually brought your dog.' And I'm like, 'Well, he keeps me warm at night . . . (laughter) and if he starts snoring, I put him in his house outside.' That killed the conversation for pretty much the whole day (laughter)." -- "My wife said she hoped I got doggie AIDS and died (laughter) . . . what she specifically told me was I was not to bring any of my weird Internet friends home, because they will get AIDS on her furniture (laughter)." -- "There's only one thing about zoophilia that I'd like to change and that's the fact that I can outlive everybody who I fall in love with. I'm on my fifth regular canine lover because the previous ones, by one means or another, have passed on. And that's one of the hardest things about being a zoo. It's the only thing I don't like." -- "When I was with my first love (a dog) . . . I was to the point that I really couldn't concentrate on my schoolwork at college, or even, I was at the National Guard, you know, just eight hours, lonely, having anxiety attacks to be back with her. And that kind of gives you an idea of what I went through when I lost her . . . I was depressed for two, three years, so deeply that I just, I couldn't even concentrate. I stopped reading because I couldn't even stay focused on more than a paragraph. I failed the first school that I went to in the Army and ended up in training with drill sergeants for eight months . . . I spent my entire income just to be able to barely afford a house to live in, to support that lifestyle . . . my entire adult life I spent pursuing to be able to live that lifestyle . . . I just couldn't be without a dog." -- "I have known what I was when I was about 11 years old. My first love was on my paper route. She was an older female German Shepherd . . . but I never had a chance to touch her because I was so horrified of getting caught. But when she finally died of cancer, I actually was like crying for a week because of that . . . and when I was 18, I had my first love. My parents let me buy a dog, and it was the happiest year of my life. And really . . . problems about, they gave her away and (crying) . . . you don't want me to get into my story . . . (still crying and a few of the guys sitting next to him started hugging him). I went into a pure depression because of that and almost committed suicide . . ." -- "The problem with losing all the lovers all the time is that every time it takes a little piece of you, and you lose a little bit of confidence in yourself that you'll ever be able to fall in love again . . . and the thing is, I realize that after losing [my horse] and after losing all the other horses and after losing the dog, after losing all of them, I was still able to feel the connection, to feel the bond that you feel love for another animal." I asked "Why do you have sexual relations with animals?" -- "It's different for every person . . . for me, it becomes the why not question. Because I know what it's like to wake up and be licked by a raspy tongue in the morning after having wonderful love with my dog the previous evening. And to deny myself that and to deny my lover the pleasure that I know I can give him . . . why? What good reason is there not to experience some of the highest highs and to share those with somebody who you know loves you and who can express that love to you so well . . . there have been a couple people who I have fallen in love with, who haven't, have said that they loved me but did not return that. I've never fallen in love with an animal that never returned that love. That doesn't mean that I hold that against people. Some people just aren't perfect. That's fine. They're not the right person for me." -- "Dogs seem to be very compatible with people. Look at all the interactions we have with dogs. We groom them, we hug them and kiss them like we do with people we care about. Often, we're actually more tactile with our dogs than we are with people. We feel protective of them and very often dogs feel protective of us . . . it's very fun to play [with] dogs. You understand them. So, if we're interacting on all these different social levels and it's a question of the dog being a social unit, they why is it, you know, sex is of course the next step . . . so you can have even more interaction . . . and you don't always know if it's love or not. Love is a human concept. You can equate an animal actions into what love is for us, but then humans can't even agree on what love is . . ." -- "I think the 'why' question's pretty easy. It's because we like it and it feels good. Another question is 'how?' or, 'How did you get this way?' I'm guessing that 99 percent of the people here grew up as labeled 'odd' by everyone around them . . . quite a few people grew up being, you know, not very popular . . ." -- "The environment pushes you. The environment that we were raised in pushed us towards animals. It didn't make us zoo, but not having as much interaction with human beings that I did, I was able to look elsewhere for companionship occasionally. Not all the time. I still had human friends, but I was a heck of a lot closer to my dogs than I was to any of the other kids that I hung around with at the time. It may not be the same for everyone, but I'm guessing that a lot of us were just kind of nudged in that general direction, you know, by our environment. It wasn't the whole reason, but it was part of the reason." <<PBRK>> -- "On the other side, that's not the only reason. Because I was part of, I competed in a lot of athletic events in school, I was part of a very popular culture within my school. I had sex with young ladies about the same time that I, my earliest sexual experience was also with goats and with women. So I had both opportunities, but I have slowly selected, almost exclusive at this point, I've turned 40, and still single, it's almost exclusively animals at this point . . ." -- "Yeah. See, I was married for five years . . . I'm out of that marriage, I'm divorced now, but out of that marriage I did have a child. But although she never did it [sex with animals], my ex, she and I had sex that was different sex than my canine sex. That is real sex, real love." Why? -- "Because (laughter). I really can't explain why. I was 11 years old when I had my first fantasies, so I don't know why, or where I even got them from, you know . . . I don't have a clue . . ." -- "I started having sex with animals when I was 8, and at the time I didn't really have any tolerant sense of right or wrong as to what I was doing. I knew that if I got caught by my mother I'd be in trouble, but I didn't really know why I would be in trouble. I knew that it felt really good and I really liked doing it . . ." -- "I don't know about hereditary, but I feel like I was born this way. I've always been close to nature and animals and everything else like that and I just guess I never felt like it was really wrong. I couldn't see that if I loved an animal this much, why not take it an extra step? I just feel like I was born this way. There wasn't anything that happened in my childhood to turn me off from women or anything like that. I wasn't an anti-social kid. My parents even told me that I was a normal kid (laughter)." -- "I was always emotionally attached to animals . . . but I was also physically attracted to animals on the street, you know. It was just like, I guess heteros see a hot woman and they're like, 'look at that woman.' And I see an attractive animal and I'm like, 'Whoa, that's a really attractive animal.' And it's always been that way and I think it's hereditary . . ." -- "I don't feel like I really had a choice, I guess. That it's just the way I am and there's no way that I could say that I'm not a zoo. It's not like I decided to have sex with animals or I decided to have this attachment or love for animals. It's like, I can't ignore it. It's part of me and I can't, I couldn't possibly have a normal relationship without that . . . this is just the way I am and if I'm going to be true to myself, then this is the way I'm going to have to live -- it's not an option . . ." -- "Another aspect perhaps of 'why' is I've always had problems dealing with and interaction with people and it created a lot of tension when I had to do that in school and work and all. And the time I spent with my companions [animals] was relaxing and helped me deal, and unwind, and deal with tension . . ." I asked about the need for intellectual stimulation for those who prefer animals as sex partners. -- "I have a social group, social peers I hang out with, that satisfy my desire for deep meaningful conversation if I choose to engage in it." -- "I don't think any of us here are total recluses to the point where we only interact with the animals and don't really have any interest in other humans. -- "I'm sure there are plenty of people who are married to paraplegics or people with various motor nervous disorders that can't speak, can't talk back to them . . . I'm saying that there are people who are married to companions, or have companions that, they are not capable of having high-level, intellectual conversations." -- "I know humans who you can't have high-level conversations with (laughter)." -- "And animals can be intellectually as challenging on their own . . ." -- "It's intellectually challenging to take care of a horse, you know, to understand it and understand its needs." -- "We all have to interact with society and we have our jobs, or school, or your family life . . ." -- "It's a separate thing. You go one place for one thing and you go to the other place for the other thing and it becomes a natural part of your life where you don't even think about it anymore . . ." -- "I think that there's something definitely missing in a zoo relationship . . . everything about my dog is, I think is fabulous. But I can't get the kind of, you know, private communication, and the kind of, you know, like spiritual type communication that you can get from another person . . . it's a completely different style of, it's completely different. I mean, I can't even describe it. It's like comparing apples to oranges. The two aren't the same . . . I think to be, or at least for me, to be complete, I need both of those . . ." [The last of a three-part series]
  10. The Secret Life of Zoophiles Part 2 What you don't know about sex with animals. By Hani Miletski, Ph.D. While I was at the gathering, in May of 1996, I took the opportunity to conduct two focus groups. In a focus group participants engage in an open discussion about a specific topic, in this case -- bestiality and zoophilia. It's sort of a brainstorming process, which I used to get ideas for what to ask in my questionnaire. The first group met for an hour and included 13 men. The second group met for an hour and a half and included 11 men and one woman. Every participant signed a consent form allowing me to tape the discussion and use their comments (anonymously) in my book. I would like to share some of their comments, so you get a flavor of the way these zoos think and the issues that are on their minds. I started the discussion by asking: "What do you think is bestiality? What is zoophilia? Is there a difference between them? And what is the difference, if there is one?" -- "I think there is definitely a difference between bestiality and zoophilia . . . zoophiles are more emotionally attached to their animals than a bestialist would be. A zoophile might regard the animal they're with as their significant other. A bestialist might keep that animal as a companion, take very good care of them, but not hold them in the same emotional sense as a zoophile would." -- "I would say that bestiality refers to the act, any act, regardless of circumstance. Zoophilia is everything beyond the act . . . the thoughts, many feelings, decisions on whether to do such things. Zoophilia describes a person; bestiality describes an act." -- "I'd say it's the difference between having a caring relationship and just using the animal for gratification. The bestialists, from my point of view, just basically use the animal for sexual relief . . . they may take care of it and that . . . but he's treating it as . . . a sex toy. You get just as much out of it as out of what you would, as using a doll or going and seeing a prostitute. Whereas a zoophile relationship is more. It's a marriage, in every sense of the term." -- "My dog, when he wants sex, I will masturbate him, and that's as far as it goes . . . I'm not like a big sex hound or anything like that. If my dog, when my dog really wants sex, then I'll give him that satisfaction, but it's, my relationship with him, is love-based. It's love emotions, being with him, just being able to cuddle up next to him, fuzzy his belly, just hearing any noises he can make, or a cute look. Everything about him. I'm in love with every part of his body, every action he's ever done . . ." -- "The dog was what made me realize that I really enjoyed giving him pleasure. Giving pleasure, not necessarily as a submissive act, but sometimes, but the giving of pleasure I believe is a true, one of the true marks of a zoophile, and that we enjoy making them happy. We enjoy giving them sexual pleasure, we enjoy giving them sensual pleasure through grooming and stuff, and we enjoy, you know, giving them the companionship that they would need if they were in like a pack situation or a herd situation . . . through being near them and being associated with them in that way, we can fill their needs, and being able to do that is really a great privilege and pleasure." -- "What's the difference between a person making love and when is a person just having sex? Even among zoophiles it's quite possible to have sex without making love and so it's pretty difficult to pinpoint where zoophilia ends and someone that's just creating bestiality, the sexual act. The only thing that can ever define that is that person's own feelings." -- "Right, because there are some people who are zoophiles, like myself, who occasionally have flings or have intercourse with creatures that they may have not met before or haven't gotten to know." -- "These are artificial definitions. There are divisions within the community. People want to separate themselves. One thing I just want to separate from is animal abuse, okay? Zoophiles generally want nothing to do with that . . . most of us here I'm sure would define ourselves as zoo. How many of you have fence hopped? Are you less a zoo? Are you now a bestialist because you've fence hopped?" At this point I had to ask: "What's 'fence hopped'"? -- "Jumped over the fence at night to go . . ." -- "It's not like you can go to a farmer's door and say, 'I'd like to take your mare out on a date'" (laughter). -- "The zoophile thing is kind of a gradual process. When you're an adolescent, your hormones are raging . . . and the emotional content just developed over time." -- "It sounds just like anyone else, though, I mean your normal, average heterosexual junior high or high school student when they're all together." -- "I don't feel that zoophilia has to involve sex though. Like with my dog, I mean, I consider myself a zoo, but I really don't have sex with my dog. I love him more than anything in the universe and I consider him to be my lover and we're companions. I'd do anything in the world for him . . . he's just everything in my life, so that's how I feel masturbation is all it comes to, and the only time that I would ever masturbate him is when he would initiate it . . . the sexual part isn't really part of my feelings; it's something he wants and he's the one who always initiates it. And I really don't see that as my main focus of being a zoo . . ." -- "I think what we're seeing is an effort to kind of define ourselves. Now that we know that there is a group of us out here, which a lot of us started three or four years ago . . . now there's a struggle to come up with some sort of nomenclature . . ." -- "The greatest word to come along in a while, to be coined in a while, is 'zoosexual,' because it takes all these arguments and tosses them out the window . . ." -- "Every piece on the continuum is contained within zoosexual." -- "It's a lifestyle." -- "Part of the problem also is that . . . zoophiles are, the distribution of zoophiles is a perfect cross-section of the entire world, or at least the country. There are zoophiles from every walk of life . . ." -- "That does bring up one other point: that most zoos, at least in my own case and I'm sure a lot of others, you tend to think of yourself as a real pervert because . . . it's next to impossible to find others. All of us here have been extremely fortunate in finding an entire group of people just like ourselves [through the Internet]. I really hate to think of how many people go through their entire lives without so much as ever realizing that there are others." -- "It's a really good feeling to find others . . . for a long time it was like, well, I have feelings, I'm not sure how to deal with them and then I read part of a book. It's like, 'Wow, there must be other people out there.' But then I was presented with the problem: I have no way of contacting them. Because it's not like you can wear a little button that says, 'Hi, I'm a zoophile' you know (laughter). So, through the Internet . . . you can get together with people and then talk for a while and realize that you're not alone, and it's very comforting . . . it's very scary thinking how many people live their lives, or even lose their lives because they can't deal with being a zoo. Cause that happens a lot with homosexuals and not being able to deal with being a zoo could result in the same thing . . . it's a hard time. It's kind of a rough trip to come to terms with this sexuality. It's not easy and then all the stuff that we have to put up with from society and just living in a closet where you can't really come out to too many people, I mean, you're lucky if you can come out to your friends . . ." -- "It can be an incredible life-changing experience . . . when you first read about other people who are like you, when you first talk to them online, when you first talk to them on the phone, when you first talk to them in real life . . . you're real! You're really there! You really are like me! It's an amazing revelation . . . " -- "Luckily, because of the Internet . . . you meet people and realize that it's really not a disorder. It's just a way of life. It's good to know that." -- "Exactly. Finding out that there were other zoos and speaking with others randomly, some of the most unscrewed up people I've met in my life . . ." -- "There have been a number of, a huge number of new people, who've found out . . ." -- "Around 700." -- "[Name of a person] is a gentleman who has put up a Web page that deals with zoophilia and related issues and has some stories and facts, frequently asked questions . . ." -- "Web page is much easier to access . . ." -- "You don't have to talk to anyone, it's just there. I had one set up as well and it had, on average, 200 hits a day from all over the world." -- "[Name of a person] got so many [hits] that he had to take the counter off. The hits to his page were taking up 60 percent of the T-1 line." -- "I think he said 10,000 . . ." -- "Apparently there's a tremendous amount of interest out there, whether it's all voyeuristic people wanting to get their rocks off, or get slicked out or, get grossed out by it . . . but intermingled in the big chunk of people that are, that don't know what it is, and see a casual reference someplace and go look, there are always going to be a few people that are very serious about it, like us, that actually are willing to go out and talk to someone or kind of hang out in the shadows a little bit for a while, read a news group for a while, then get up a little more courage and get on a talker and start talking to a few people there, and then eventually come here and hang with us weirdos." -- "Yeah, I'm sure for every one of us that's willing to come to a group like this there's probably 40 who would never do it . . ." -- "You have a lot to lose . . . if there were really some kind of police set-up, or blackmail. There are so many things that can go wrong . . . if you think about how many people could have their careers destroyed . . ." -- "When you think about the 'Net there's kind of an illusion which I bought into for a while. 'Cause when I got on the 'Net two years ago the Net seemed very different then and people seemed a lot smarter. But as AOL and 'Net access becomes easier and more, and you don't have to be smart or a computer whiz to get online anymore, we're really beginning to see that it is a whole cross-section of the population, that it [bestiality] isn't just a phenomenon of smart people or computer geeks or anything like that . . . and I'm discovering it's almost disappointing to have this illusion destroyed, that maybe we're all smarter, or a little more creative, but the more I talk to, the more zoos I meet online, the more I discover that we're just people, and run the gamut of what people are like." -- "Yeah, we were getting a skewed sampling. You know . . . a few years ago, everyone on the Internet . . . had to be a smart person. You had to know about computers and everything . . . I was convinced that zoophiles had a marked tendency to be on the upper scale of intelligence . . ." -- "I know two blacks and three Asians and all of them like to keep quiet." -- "Drawing parallels with the gay community . . . the very first time on there [a chat room called "bearish demons"] I met a black bear person and I asked, 'well, how come there's so few black bears?' and they said, 'Oh, there's plenty of black bears, they just don't talk to you.' 'And why not?' 'Well, because you're white.' And so there's an overlying tendency among ethnic groups to not mix . . . so, it's possible that there are blacks out there, but . . . they may feel so alienated that . . . they're a zoo and we're zoos, but they still can't relate to us." -- "It's interesting, cause I've gotten to know five African-American zoos because everybody thinks my 'Net name, Black, [means] I'm an African-American . . . so I hear from more African-Americans." -- "I get a similar thing because of the 'Net name I chose . . . It's an obviously very ethnic-sounding, very black name . . . so I get a lot of black people . . ." -- "I think there's almost an equal number of women, they're just much quieter" [on the Internet]. -- "I think that by and large the case with any woman admitting to any sexual outlet in our society they're treated far more harshly by people than males are. They're not going to fess up to it. They tend to be far more closeted and less willing or able to talk about it than males are." -- "And being that most of us have known each other through the 'Net . . . basically there just aren't that many women out there . . . a lot of women get on the 'Net . . . and then they get scared off . . . it is extremely common on the 'Net for people to . . . ask 'I want to watch a woman do it with an animal.' It's so common, it's boring . . . I know that I get really offended and really bothered. 'Well, I'll call you if there's an animal that's really sexy . . .' None of your damn business! Because they assume that anyone who would do that with an animal has no problem being degraded." -- "There are more women appearing on the net, and thus are coming to these gatherings -- there are some here. For example, there's Goldie, who's not a zoo at all but just likes hanging around us cause she thinks we're cool . . ." -- "But there's still a lot of women who are there and they don't feel comfortable talking about it . . . people will talk in chat mode, but they [women zoos] won't talk in public. They have to be more cautious, and rightly so, because there are a lot of horny males out there online -- 60% droolers and jerks . . ." -- "There are a lot more [women zoos] out there than the sample [group] will indicate. More of us confirm that just from personal e-mail." -- The woman participant said: "Women drop in [on the Internet] and then they drop back out again. And I think that it's more about that women don't go around talkin' about their sexuality, and about the sex that they have . . . most of you guys know no personal, intimate details about my sex life, because I don't share . . ." -- "We think there are a lot more women out there, maybe housewives who get into things with their family pets, that people don't know about . . . I think there are a lot of in-the-closet zoo people who are out there, and thinking about the people that don't use the Internet, or never will use the Internet -- there's probably many that we will never know of, because this is so taboo." -- "We need confirmed studies . . . something where research has been done . . . we've got to be able to say, 'it's accepted, it exists, and it's real.' And it's not just us trying to fool ourselves . . . and another thing that's a common thread that I've seen, this is, we're one of the only groups I've ever seen, as a group, that adamantly refuses to recruit. We don't reach enough people. I have actually gone out of my way to discourage people. If I get the feeling it's just a sexual [fantasy], I will flat out tell them, 'Go buy yourself a sex doll. Go hire a prostitute.' You know, slam bam, thank you. And . . . if I get that feeling from somebody, I'll discourage them, because it's not what it's all about. There's more to it than that. It's commitment. It's a worse commitment than a marriage because you can't walk away. They don't understand if you leave them." -- "And this has been tough for me, because I know I'm going back after a week and a half to dogs that aren't used to seeing me gone . . . it's been three years since I've taken a vacation of a week. Other than that, we've been together almost constantly." -- "I've never been separated from my love for a day . . ." -- "It is certainly worth mentioning that there are just endless numbers of parallels between zoophilia in American society and homosexuals in American society . . . we are following exactly the same path, footstep for footstep, of gays, except that we're farther behind . . . well, there are stereotypes . . . you go back a few decades, all gays were drag queens . . ." -- "Child molesters." -- "Yeah, there you go, child molesters. I can remember in my childhood in the '70s, I remember reading in Ann Landers: 'I just found out my babysitter is lesbian. Should I fear for my kids' safety?' And certainly, it may be hard for someone who's known us to believe it, but people hear about someone who does things like this and they . . ." -- "For some reason, the image that stereotype . . . I seem to hear most often is the notion of a person raping a goat. I don't know what it is about a goat . . . for some reason people imagine this drooling maniac, clambering after a fleeing goat . . ." -- "Along the line of stereotypes . . . non-zoos online . . . immediately assume that because I'm male that I'm a heterosexual zoo. So that if you're male either you're just out there shagging sheep or goats. And I have had a lot of goats . . . and it completely escapes them that maybe possibly . . . that we're the one in the passive role in this." -- "A lot of people will say how can you abuse an animal? I mean, an animal doesn't have a choice when you're doing it. Well, getting into the gory details, when I bend over and he goes, he jumps up, it's like . . . I'm not holding a gun going, 'you gotta do this'" (laughter). -- "People will say, 'Yeah, but you're taking advantage of that poor creature. It's just instinct.' And I've yet to have an opportunity to use this reply: What exactly would you call it when human beings do it? It's instinct." -- "The only thing that I had heard, that was suggested to me during an argument with a non-zoo was that, 'Well, you've obviously perverted the animal for the animal to have any interest in you at all.' And . . . the individual said the animal should be put down." -- "I can vouch for the donkey's virtue (laughter)!" -- "The ignorance that goes with some of this, this is one thing I would be so bold as to say, exceeds what goes on with the attitudes toward gays. Because the ignorance . . . in common attitudes towards zoophilia is funny . . ." -- "Occasionally we still will get scolded in the Internet by someone who's saying "You, crazy people! Don't you realize that, what kind of monstrous mutant creature can come of such an unholy union?'" (laughter). -- "You go back and break it down into chromosome number and genetics, and say, 'Now if any of us could have had a baby of that nature, we would now be fantastically wealthy and starring on many TV shows.'" -- "We wouldn't have time -- we'd have so many kids (laughter)!" -- "It's [having sex with animals] not usual, but it is natural." -- "It's like saying albinism isn't natural. It's unusual to happen in a lot of species, but it does happen occasionally." -- "The presentation of bestiality in the media tends to be always very light-handed or, you know, humorous in nature." -- "I think that one of the reasons for that is because nobody really believes that anybody with any mind at all actually does this. Frequently we see the same thing; people get on the 'Net [and say]: 'Are you guys for real? Are you really doing this? I thought it was just a joke.'" -- "You get it many times . . . they'll either say, 'Got any pictures?' or they'll say, 'Wow, this is really weird.' Or they'll say, 'You guys are all sick!'" -- "We've become the ultimate fantasy for some people, we're comic relief for some people and some of us are really tired of it. We want to be recognized as a legitimate sexual orientation. That's what we are." -- "The only time I've ever seen anything presented in the media has been whenever somebody gets in trouble. And it is always the rapists who get it -- the animal rapers . . . it is the ones who abuse the animal . . . that are most frequently . . . who get caught and who people are hearing about . . ." -- "Without exception . . . the media will always use the words . . . 'sexually assaulted the animal.' Always, every single time." -- "A zoophile is painted as a bestialist who will eventually become something like a rapist. Will go out and shoot people at McDonald's, a pedophile. Because they're always coming up with studies that say this person just shot 20 people at the local McDonald's used to be a bestialist. Or you know, he's a pedophile, he started out with animals for sexual gratification . . ." -- "Another thing to think about too is groups such as the Humane Society, the SPCA, PETA. Dealing with them, they'd probably like nothing better than to see our heads in a fish tank or on a platter . . ." -- "Their goal is to turn the entire United States and get laws passed that require every personally owned pet to be castrated. Literally. That's their stated goal . . ." -- "There's another aspect of that, too, that's not uncommon for the Humane Society . . . in the interest of the animal, they will say, 'The animal has learned to have sex with a human. It can never be rehabilitated as a house pet.' So they kill it. Pure and simple, they kill it." -- "I think there's also another aspect to it where it's viewed as a little bit more acceptable. It's, oh, one of those things that adolescents do and then you grow out of it. And it's okay when you're young but then, as you get older, suddenly you become a social menace . . . I remember waiting through the years I was 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, until I was going to grow out of this phase I was in (laughter)." -- "Well, I don't know what's wrong with Kinsey's study, but it's the only study I know of . . ." -- "Yeah, Kinsey, that was the part that they had a problem with because that's how he got his data, from interviewing child molesters." -- "Whenever you see an article about the problems and evils of the Internet, what do they always talk about?" -- "Bestiality and pedophiles." -- "One observation I've made is that we consider our animal partners mature adults, which says that it's contact between adults . . . basically pedophilia is abhorrent, if not more so than it is to the average person, because of the immaturity involved." -- "My two horses, for example, I have tried to do . . . things sexually with them that they did not like and they told me they didn't like it. I mean . . . their ears went back, you know, they were uncomfortable, they fidgeted. Basically, what I'm trying to say is, I tried to be a top with both my horses. My horses don't care for that . . . there was a time, years ago, I would admit that I would have just gone ahead with it any ways. The older I got, the more mature and more acceptance I got in what my lifestyle is, I was very sensitive. I became more sensitive to my animal lovers' needs . . . I didn't try to do anything, I never tried to do anything to my animals that I'd feel harmed them in any way . . ." -- "Also, the dog has the ultimate way to say no and that's with two rows of very sharp teeth . . ." -- "[When] they're not interested, and it takes an understanding person to not proceed then. Because anyone could proceed, you know . . . exert enough force on the animal, but that'd be a bestialist. A zoo would see that the animal did not want to continue and stop. And that can be frustrating, 'cause you're all excited, but it really takes a strong person to say, 'OK, the animal says no,' and if they did continue it would be rape." -- "The fact that if the animal is really feeling strong about it, they'll be more than merely indicative that they're not overly interested. There's always the matter of, as you say, with a dog, two rows of rather sharp teeth. Horse has a good, a healthy set of choppers and mighty sharp hooves, not to mention it outmatches you by at least four to one, 400 pounds, you know . . . I got kicked in the thigh by a . . . gelding . . . if I'd put my head down he would have clocked me right in the noggin and I would have been brain damaged. Yeah, yeah, I would have been toast . . ." [This is the second of a three-part series] Dr. Hani Miletski, M.S.W., Ph.D., is a psychotherapist and an AASECT-certified sex therapist based in Bethesda, MD. This article is excerpted from a book she is currently writing concerning her study on bestiality and zoophilia. For more information go to www.DrMiletski.com.
  11. What you don't know about sex with animals. By Hani Miletski, Ph.D. It all started when my client, I'll call him Christian, told me he could not find any literature about bestiality/zoophilia. I had been seeing him, in my psychotherapy practice, because he could not stop having sex with dogs. He was a very religious man and believed it was wrong to have sexual relations with anything other than women, and even then, only when you are married to that woman. However, he could not control his urges to have sex with the dogs in his neighborhood. I asked the librarian at the Sexuality Information and Education Council of the United States (SIECUS) to conduct a literature search for me (at that time I was not connected to the Internet), which resulted in very disappointing findings. There was nothing out there about bestiality and zoophilia other than one autobiography by Mark Matthews: The Horseman: Obsessions of a Zoophile. In this book, the author describes his struggles to accept the fact that he loved his horse more than he loved his wife. He portrayed himself as an intelligent, professional individual who was sexually attracted to horses and eventually, after admitting to himself his love for his horse, he married his horse. I was intrigued with the idea that there are people who may be sexually attracted to animals and may even prefer animals as sex partners to humans. I decided to dedicate my doctoral dissertation to this topic and began to study bestiality and zoophilia. This was not an easy thing to do. Some of my colleagues and friends thought I was out of my mind: "You are going to study what?" Some concluded there was something wrong with me, that I needed therapy and/or that I myself was having sex with animals. The man I was dating at the time could not even handle discussing the topic and we ended up going our separate ways (it wasn't a good relationship anyway). But, there were others who admired me and encouraged my controversial investigation and I was set to be (maybe) the first researcher to study this virtually unknown phenomenon and to conduct a large scale, professional study on bestiality/zoophilia. With greater focus and effort, I spent days at the library of the Institute for Advanced Study of Human Sexuality in San Francisco, at the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C., and at the library of the National Institute for Mental Health (NIMH) in Bethesda, Maryland. I found a specialized magazine, The Wild Animal Revue, which provided me with much information about this topic and its editor was so kind as to lend me several rare books to help with my study. I bought other rare books in a little store in New York, and the Internet was a source of abundant information about bestiality and zoophilia as well. I ended up finding many books and articles whose authors mention and sometimes even discuss bestiality and zoophila. Many authors suggest that human beings have had sexual relations with animals since the dawn of history and throughout the world (in some countries more than in others). These authors assert that sexual relations with animals has been practiced, thought about, dreamed of and has emerged as myth, fairytale, folklore, literature, painting and sculpture (Cauldwell, 1948; Dumont, 1970; Kinsey et al, 1948; Kullinger, 1969; Masters, 1962). None of them, however, provides an in-depth picture into the lives and behaviors of the people who engage in sexual relations with animals. Many authors volunteer their opinions and discuss humans' sexual relations with animals as though they are an authority on the subject. Their opinions, however, are often conflicting and cause much confusion to the reader. Conducting this extensive literature review diminished any lingering doubts about the necessity for a study on bestiality and zoophilia. As my literature review reveals, scientific studies on the motivations for engaging in bestiality/zoophilia and studies describing the sexual, social and mental health profile of individuals involved are very scarce. The few related studies described above (Kinsey et al., 1948; Kinsey et al., 1953; and Hunt, 1974) proved outdated and limited in their findings since they did not focus on the issue of bestiality/zoophilia. Peretti Rowan's study (1983) was more focused but did not distinguish between bestiality and zoophilia and only six variables were explored. Donofrio's recent study (1996) focused on zoophiles, however the small number of participants (8) limited his findings. The major void of knowledge regarding bestiality/zoophilia bothered me. I believed, and I still do, that as clinical sexologists and psychotherapists, we need to be equipped with a carefully researched base of knowledge in order to understand the phenomenon and the individuals involved. As professionals helping those who struggle with and experience ego-dystonic feelings about bestiality and zoophilia, it is important that this research be available and on-going. To this end, I decided to conduct an exploratory study in an attempt to gather data on a sexual behavior under-studied and misunderstood. I also wanted to better understand the people who engage in sexual relations with animals and their motivations for doing so. The idea that some people may be sexually attracted to animals, to the point of preferring animals to humans as sex partners, fascinated me. The new term, coined by the "zoo" community ("zoo" is basically a shortcut for "zoophile") on the Internet: "zoosexuality," implies a sexual orientation towards animals. Stasya (1996), Tanka (1995), Shepherd (1996) and Fox (1994) on the Internet agreed with this definition. And Donofrio (1996) reports that the concept of zoophilia, being a sexual orientation, was supported by his doctoral study. He, therefore, suggests using a scale resembling Kinsey's sexual orientation scale which was also offered by Blake (1971). Donofrio's model suggests that those who have no interest whatsoever in sexual contact with animals would appear at the Zero point of the scale. Those individuals whose sole sexual outlet and attraction are animals would be assigned the Six position. Along that continuum, between these two extremes, would be individuals who include animal sexual contact in their fantasy, or have had incidental experiences with animals, have had more than incidental contact with animals, place their sexual activity with animals equal to that involving humans, prefer animal contact but engage in more than incidental contact with humans, and those who engage primarily in contact with animals with only incidental human sexual contact. I therefore conceptualized my basic research question to be: "Is there a sexual orientation towards non-human animals?" I adapted the definition of "sexual orientation" from Francoeur (1991) in his discussion of homosexuality, heterosexuality and bisexuality. According to this definition, sexual orientation consists of three interrelated aspects: (1) affectional orientation -- who or what we bond with emotionally; (2) sexual fantasy orientation -- who or what we fantasize having sex with; and (3) erotic orientation -- with whom or what we prefer to have sex. Now I had to find subjects. I had no idea where to begin. I had my client but that was definitely not enough. I started talking to anyone willing to listen. I placed an ad in The Wild Animal Revue. I posted an ad on a message board at the Institute for Advanced Study for Human Sexuality. I sent a letter to Mark Matthews, the founder of the Zoophiliac Outreach Organization. I placed an ad in Sexual Science, the Society for Scientific Study of Sexuality newsletter. I placed an ad in Contemporary Sexuality, the American Association for Sex Educators, Counselors and Therapists (AASECT) newsletter. Most importantly, I posted an Internet ad on the alt.sex. bestiality bulletin board. When I went to AASECT's annual meeting in Baltimore, Maryland, in June 1996, I posted an ad on the message board. A prominent figure in the sexology field (from another organization) was offended by the ad and ordered it down. This sad incident, however, ended on a positive note: The president of AASECT at that time, Dr. Judy Seifer, formally apologized and became one of my doctoral advisors. Also, before the ad was taken down, it was photographed by a journalist and ended up in the Baltimore City Paper June 19, 1996 issue, as part of an article by Motoyama about the above conference. All the ads had the same message: "I need volunteers... Anyone who has ever had sexual relations with an animal... To fill out an anonymous questionnaire. I am a doctoral student who is doing her dissertation research on bestiality/zoophilia. I believe this topic is understudied and that it is important to shed some light on this phenomenon. This will be especially significant for people who struggle with this issue and for their psychotherapists. Please call me at (my phone number) weekdays and ask for Hani. I appreciate any help I can get. Thanks!" One day I received a phone call from a woman, I'll call her Beverly. She told me she heard about me and my study from a friend on the Internet and she would like to help. I was elated. We had about a 10-minute conversation and I was very impressed. She was divorced, had a daughter and a boyfriend. She sounded very intelligent. And she was a zoo. She also told me she has many connections with the zoo community and would ask everyone to give me a call. I could hardly contain my excitement. The next day I got a phone call from a man, I'll call him Jim. Jim was a college professor and a close friend of Beverly. They lived about 20 minutes away from each other. We talked for about an hour. He sounded like a really nice, smart guy, and I enjoyed our conversation very much. Then Ted called. He was a Biologist and a friend of Jim. He was a zoo too, and I was in heaven. I then met with Beverly for lunch. She came with her daughter so we could not talk about my study, but we talked about everything else. I really liked her. Since I did not have access to the Internet at that time, she offered to come with her boyfriend to my place with a lap top and connect me to the Internet on their account. Her boyfriend was a very handsome man, in his 30s. He was divorced, a government employee with a "top secret" clearance and a zoo. I logged on the Internet for the first time in my life and into a chat room where a whole crowd of zoos was waiting to speak with me. Three hours went by and I did not even notice. I was ecstatic. I never expected what happened next: zoos started calling me from all over the world. When I set up to do this study, I expected, at most, to end up with a few brave zoos and conduct a case-study kind of research. However, more then 160 people contacted me about the study (three heard about me through the Baltimore City Paper) and most of them were very supportive and encouraging. They congratulated me on the idea to conduct a study about them and expressed excitement about taking part in this research project. Some of them began advocating for me and getting their zoo friends to join the study. One zoo, Stasya, devoted his web-page to discuss and advocate my study and provided information about how to contact me. After a while, everyone on the Internet zoo community was talking about me; I felt like a celebrity. Some of the zoos began calling me on a regular basis, just to chat. I welcomed these advances since I wanted to develop good relationships with them and hopefully get more subjects for my study through them. But, more importantly, I enjoyed talking to them and found them to be very interesting. I was fascinated with their stories and often with their wisdom. When their annual gathering took place, they invited me. I was very flattered, now I knew they trusted me. But I had some mixed feelings. I did not want to get too close to them as people might think I am a zoo and/or their friend and wouldn't take my study seriously. At the same time, how could I give up an opportunity like this? I decided to go. This turned out to be a profound weekend. It opened the doors to a secret world populated by entertaining, intelligent people, engaged in a sexual behavior that much of our contemporary society views with revulsion. "Living outside the pale," they welcomed me into their gathering. As a researcher, they shared themselves with only the expectation that I would one day objectively report my findings to the greater population. Beverly came to pick me up at the airport with three other zoos and, after a stop at her house, we went to Jim's where the gathering took place. Jim's house was located in a rural area. He had a couple of horses, a donkey, two llamas and a few dogs. I met more than fifty zoos from all around the country. Some of them came with their partners and everywhere I turned there were big dogs laying around. Everyone was nice and polite. People were supportive and cooperative (after they were assured about confidentiality, my intentions and that I was not a zoo). Overall, I found myself in the company of some interesting and friendly people, and we spent the weekend talking about zoophilia and other general topics. We watched (main-stream) movies, played cards and other games, went for walks, cooked, laughed and had lots of fun. When I returned home, I had a long list of new volunteers for my study and I was much more educated about zoophilia and zoophiles. [This is the first of a three-part series] Hani Miletski, M.S.W., Ph.D., is a psychotherapist and an AASECT-certified sex therapist based in Bethesda, MD. This article is excerpted from a book she is currently writing concerning her study on bestiality and zoophilia. For more information go to www.DrMiletski.com
  12. Rannoch / Rannoch2012

    I'm sorry I didn't have the opportunity to become better acquainted and my condolences to all that were his friend.
  13. Awkward Enby

    Welcome, TZ! This is a good place to exercise your writing muscle. I hope you enjoy your stay and learn much about yourself and others.
  14. Andrew, I think you would enjoy Frans de Waal's recent book, "Are we smart enough to really understand how smart animals are?" He mentions examples where conclusions were drawn incorrectly based on assumptions about how the animal interacted with it's world and the design of the test or experiment is inherently flawed and destined to fail since it is based on an incorrect assumption. Any technology designed to interpret thoughts will be always be constrained within the context of the designer's understanding of enabling communication for that subject regardless of complexity.