How I became the proud owner of a 5'10", 240 lb human pup

My pup, Bubby, love his collar and leash

Growing up an only child, I always wanted a Clifford the Big Red Dog-sized canine companion. Sadly, despite my best efforts, I entered into adulthood having unsuccessfully petitioned my mother for such a beast. At 26, however, I became the owner of a 5-foot-10-inch, 240-pound human pup by the name of Bubby.

No thanks to my mother, I am finally living the dream.

For as long as I can remember, I have been attracted to things, people, animals, etc. that need my care. I’ve never met a clipped wing I didn’t absolutely need to mend.

When I have something to take care of – work, school, lovers, pets, etc. – I feel like I have my shit together. When I don’t, I often find myself lost in a forest of trees whose sole thrill in life is pelting me with apple-sized pellets of depression.

When I met Bobby, I was lethargically wishing I had the energy to get up and look for the exit from the forest of asshole trees. Having him in my life gave me that jolt of energy I needed to get out. On our first date, I knew he was the type of person who needed care, but he didn’t.

He confided in me his recent mental health issues. I empathized, because I’d spent the last few months in that depressing-ass forest of asshole trees. I was so ready for the challenge.

I wanted to give him whatever he needed. He was a cold-fusion reactor, and he needed me to be his Doctor Octopus and reign in his wilder tendencies.

After a few months of trial and error, it became clear that what Bobby needed, specifically, was to be my pup, my Bubby. He needed a leash, collar, companion, obedience, play time, naps and a daily bone. Giving him those things in this gentle, playful and kinky way helped me solve both our minds and relationship.  

Outside of the cognitive therapy, I also found puppy play to be sexually exhilarating. My erections haven’t been this frequent, rigid or exciting since middle school. For the record, frequent is a word which here means “near constant.”

Puppy play offers me the opportunity to be in control, a feeling of confidence, an outlet for my sadism and lots of cuddles with my man. Since we’ve decided to go full-time with our play, these things are available to me all the time. That consistent, predictable dynamic gives me an incredible sense of peace. For a person who’s usually constantly worried about things, that’s really hard to find.

When I’m fully in play mode, my mind is clear. It’s just me and my puppy. That constant buzz of my brain’s distraction-seeking system goes away, and I can just focus. My anxiety goes away. I’m not quite on autopilot, but most of the time I can just let my mind rest.

Although I do really enjoy puppy play, I sometimes break from the haze and become self-conscious. I always know that it’s just play, but there are times where I’m able to tap into a childlike state where I can fully suspend my disbelief and just let things roll.

Being able to tap into the play aspect of puppy play is probably the most important aspect for me and my sanity. It makes sense from a personal, historical perspective and from a “look at what the fuck is right in fucking front of you, asshole,” perspective.

I wanted a pup for a reason; I needed the things a pet brought into my life. I’m now an adult, but those needs haven’t gone away. Without realizing it, I was able to find a relationship that is sexually thrilling, emotionally fulfilling, worked as cognitive behavioral therapy – for free! – and is simply fun.  All in all, I’d say this puppy play thing is pretty damn swell.