You worry. You fret. No matter what well-meaning people tell you, you believe that it's somehow your fault. Where did I go wrong? What could I have done differently?
My mind is racing with these thoughts as I try to cope with the distressing foot fetish of Bingo, our Shar-pei. I can't ignore it anymore. I can't explain it away.
Bingo has had a thing for feet since he was a pup. When we would put on our shoes, he was at our feet in a flash, nipping and sniffing. We figured he was trying to keep us unshod so we wouldn't go out without him. We thought it was cute. But then his interests turned to feet beyond those of the immediate family.
A normal, well-trained male dog greets visitors by humping their legs or sniffing their behinds. Bingo's nose zooms to their feet, making for an uncomfortable situation all around. We are embarrassed by our dog's behavior and the visitor is embarrassed that his or her feet might be unusually odorous.
A meter reader ignored the "Beware of Dog" sign and entered Bingo's domain. Our fearless guard dog didn't try to rip his leg off, just his shoes. Another time I went out to see what a visiting police officer wanted and found him standing on the patio, arms crossed in disgust, as Bingo slobbered all over his spit-shined oxfords.
The final straw was when our grandson Corwin came into our home. Bingo expressed little curiosity about the baby except to stop by his swing to sniff his feet. That was it. Trying to cop an olfactory thrill from a baby's feet was rock bottom. He needed help.
I turned to the Church of the 90s - the Internet - for answers. I was delighted to find a newsgroup called alt.sex.fetish.feet. I figured it was a self-help discussion group where unfortunate foot-sniffers like Bingo worked out their problems.
I couldn't have been more mistaken. It was a cyber-flea market for every character on the planet with a wayward interest in feet.
There was a "Celebrity Feet Game" and a pitch for MTV's "best female feet in a video" award. You could read "true tales of tickling" and gawk at "the last word in bunion pictures." There were specialty groups for those horny for white socks, dress socks or athletic socks.
The regional pleas broke my heart. A fellow in the Pacific Northwest asked hopefully if any women in Seattle wanted their feet massaged. A forlorn guy in the Big Apple was "looking for smelly feet in NY - age and looks don't matter." Another lonely soul wondered, "Any gay foot lovers in Texas?"
THERE were items for sale or barter. For the right price, you could get pictures of the feet of movie stars or see "Asian studs in sports shoes."
"Five-inch heels for sale, used by sexy stripper," said one ad, complete with pictures of both the heels and the stripped stripper.
And my favorite: "I'm looking for a woman's dirty socks ... will trade my wife's dirty socks for your wife's dirty socks." Uh, Sweetcakes, do you mind if I go through the hamper before you do that load of wash?
I know it's politically incorrect these days to make fun of anybody's sexual preference. But Good Lord! Is this what the practice of our cherished freedom has come to?
And what's this Internet posting from a black Shar-pei in Hawaii looking for ripe Reeboks in baby sizes?
