Tonight I realized what "crabs" are. Every day on the beach we walk over dead things, and they are always swarming with little crab-like critters. Little ones.
The puggies often step right through the swarm. Isabella likes to back up to anything dead, raise one back leg, lower her pudendum, and pee.
Apparently these critters prefer to munch on their deceased prey than tackle anything with a still beating heart- and thereby hangs my theory that on "public beaches" which are groomed, i.e., from which decaying matter is removed, the "crabs" are ravenous for sustenance and will eagerly snatch hold of anything meaty, whether human, canine, or otherwise.
The only time I have ever had crabs was after "dating" a very cute bartender who I met in San Jose. He invited me to visit him at his home in Santa Cruz over the weekend. Fun! It was to be my first "romantic weekend out of town" since moving to San Francisco.
His apartment was cozy, and near the beach. He had very little furniture: he explained that he was renovating the place, even though it was only a rental.
We fooled around on his bed, which was a mattress on the floor. After a tender post-coital cuddle, I excused myself to use the bathroom.
Imagine my shock to discover that there were no fixtures! He was remodeling the bathroom, too!
"Where do I take my business?" I asked.
He explained that if I was careful I could just aim for the hole in the floor, but otherwise I could use the public beach restroom, which was "only two blocks away."
I made some excuse to leave, and my new crabs and I left for home.
Another crabby encounter was with Tom McVitty, an early blond hotty who had a penchant for banging coke and getting banged by cock...I picked him up hitchhiking at Bonny Doon beach, near Santa Cruz. He had very fine, blonde hair on his chest but a full set of pubes, and they were absolutely swarming. I fetched him a bottle of Rid from the nearest Walgreen's, and the bottom of the tub was coated with crab corpses when he was done.
What have we learned from all this nonsense?
The puggies often step right through the swarm. Isabella likes to back up to anything dead, raise one back leg, lower her pudendum, and pee.
Apparently these critters prefer to munch on their deceased prey than tackle anything with a still beating heart- and thereby hangs my theory that on "public beaches" which are groomed, i.e., from which decaying matter is removed, the "crabs" are ravenous for sustenance and will eagerly snatch hold of anything meaty, whether human, canine, or otherwise.
The only time I have ever had crabs was after "dating" a very cute bartender who I met in San Jose. He invited me to visit him at his home in Santa Cruz over the weekend. Fun! It was to be my first "romantic weekend out of town" since moving to San Francisco.
His apartment was cozy, and near the beach. He had very little furniture: he explained that he was renovating the place, even though it was only a rental.
We fooled around on his bed, which was a mattress on the floor. After a tender post-coital cuddle, I excused myself to use the bathroom.
Imagine my shock to discover that there were no fixtures! He was remodeling the bathroom, too!
"Where do I take my business?" I asked.
He explained that if I was careful I could just aim for the hole in the floor, but otherwise I could use the public beach restroom, which was "only two blocks away."
I made some excuse to leave, and my new crabs and I left for home.
Another crabby encounter was with Tom McVitty, an early blond hotty who had a penchant for banging coke and getting banged by cock...I picked him up hitchhiking at Bonny Doon beach, near Santa Cruz. He had very fine, blonde hair on his chest but a full set of pubes, and they were absolutely swarming. I fetched him a bottle of Rid from the nearest Walgreen's, and the bottom of the tub was coated with crab corpses when he was done.
What have we learned from all this nonsense?
Well, don't lay down on the beach unless there are plenty of dead things around to feed the local crab population, and when you come to visit we will have to comb through your chest hairs after each beach adventure to make sure that you are not harboring any tiny bioterrorists.
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