"Learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all" --Whitney Houston

When I was about 15, I babysat for a girl of about 11. It was a plum job in that she didn't need tending to in any way, she just didn't like to be alone in the house. So, we'd watch TV and she'd go to bed. And then I'd watch more TV and collect my pay.

Technically, we weren't alone in the house. They had a great pyrenees named Sam. I remember Sam much better than I remember the girl.

Here's a picture of a great pyrenees I found on the Interwebs:


Notice the size. Notice in the picture that the dog's head is bigger than the man's head. That is not a camera angle distortion. These are freakin' large dogs. In fact, don't think dog, think lion. That's closer scale. Sam was furrier and bigger than the pyrenees in the picture. Sam was the biggest pet I'd ever seen and probably ever will.

Sam was a self-love practitioner. He would spend most of the evening laying on his side, pleasuring himself. Loudly. Lots of slurping noises. For hours. He was a self-satisfaction connoisseur of the highest intensity.

Then the parents would come home and we'd have a few minutes of chit-chat (never about Sam) and they'd always round up the amount they owed me and then the dad would take me home in his car. And he'd call Sam to take the ride.

Even though the car was a big one, Sam still took up the entire back seat with his head hovering between us in the front seat. He'd be drooling, panting, breathing that special self-love breath all over us.

At the time I thought all big dogs panted and drooled. Now, when I think about it, I realize he was gasping with doggy afterglow.