Why my dog is sexually attracted to rollerblades

My son brought home a coupon from school the other day good for free roller skating any Saturday or Sunday at the local skating rink.

“Sweet,” I replied. “Free roller skating! This coupon would have been so awesome back in 1992 when roller skating was still a thing.”

But my son was interested and so he asked if we could go and then asked if we could practice. I told him we didn’t have roller skates, but that I had a pair of rollerblades about twelve sizes too big for a five year old that he could try on if he was so inclined.

He was so inclined.

The only issue was that it was cold and dark outside and I had no interest in going out there to help him roller blade. I also had no interest in rollerblading in the garage as it would have required me to move both of our cars out.

“Do you want to rollerblade in the house?” I asked him.

I know, I know. In hindsight seeing that sentence in print alerts me to the fact that it probably wasn’t the greatest idea.

But it didn’t go south in the way you’re probably thinking.

I let my son put on the rollerblades and I guided him around the kitchen and dining room trying to help him get used to the giant skates. They were comically too large for his feet and he looked like I would look if someone tied a couple of Mini Coopers to my feet and asked me to putz around the neighborhood.

Like most kids, he tired of the whole escapade in about 30 seconds and then my daughter wanted a turn. It took me about 10 minutes to secure the even-too-bigger for her feet rollerblades and then she refused to budge once I stood her up because she was too scared.

I should have known better.

But then the kids asked if I’d put them on and do a spin around the house.

I should have known better about this, too.

“Sure, let dear-ole-dad show you kids how it’s done.” I put those babies on, stood up, and darted for the living room.

And then it happened.

I didn’t break an ankle, didn’t smash a lamp, didn’t run over a kid.

I got humped. Yep, you read that right. Humped.

Out of nowhere, my 80 pound Golden Retriever comes up on my heels, jumps up, knocks me to the ground, and proceeds to hump me. In the adjacent dining room, my children looked on in horror as my wife laughed hysterically.

“Help! Help!” I cried out, unable to stand because of the whole rollerblade thing. I kicked at my dog screaming, “No, humping Riley! No!” as he tried to bang away at me. Eventually I kicked him away to thwart his efforts.

More than 24 hours later I still don’t understand what happened. My dog has been neutered for seven years and in that whole time I think he’s humped maybe a dozen times and nine of those involved my brother (don’t ask).

But all I know is when I finally stood back up on those rollerblades I looked down at my three-year-old daughter who flashed this great big smile at me and then said,

“Dad, what’s humping?”

Needless to say, I will never rollerblade in the house again.

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