My dog Snoop is a hateful creature too much of the time. I’ve been told it’s my fault that the dog behaves that way. Folks say he doesn’t know who’s the boss. Since he was a pup, efforts to roll him on his back and into a submissive position have failed. There’s only one way to get the dog to lie on his back. That’s when the canine wants his stomach scratched. I wonder if scratching is a male thing in all species. It sure is for us men.
On a recent Sunday, a couple sitting in the front of the sanctuary caught my attention. The minister was knee-deep in the morning prayer, and because my personal talk with the man upstairs was finished, I opened my eyes and looked around. The man and woman sat with heads bowed, and what I noticed were her actions. Her hand moved gently back and forth as her finger nails scratched the man’s back. Her husband sat unmoving, as if the scratching had put him into a catatonic state.
I admit that one of the greatest joys of my life is having my back scratched. Actually, I’d rather had finger tips gently gliding across my shoulders, but I won’t turn down scratching at all. Even when my brother and I were young boys, we’d sidle up to Mother and lean on her as she scratched our backs. We’d stand in one position for as long as she’d allow us, and those were the only times we stopped for anything.
High school girls learn early the tricks involved in capturing a teenaged males. One of the best is scratching or rubbing their backs and heads. I used to have much more hair in those days, and sometimes a girl would rub my head as we sat with a group and talked in the band room before the school day started. Then the bell for class would ring, and I would walk to the room in a half-asleep state.
My wonderful, beautiful, loving wife Amy is the best of all. She is kind enough to scratch or rub my back on many occasions. The best is at bed time. I lie there while she moves her hand across my back for several minutes. She never lets on if the task wears her out. I also suffer from Restless Leg Syndrome and take Mirapex. However, sometimes the medicine doesn’t kick in or offers only slight relief. On those occasions, Amy will rub my twitching calf muscles for long stretches of time. God bless her!
From conversations with other men, I’ve discerned that we all relish those moments of scratching. Like my dog Snoop, we lose all aggression and become putty in the hands of our women. Maybe that’s why females do it—to keep us mellow. It’s for sure that they don’t have to deal with our griping and arguing, and we guys abdicate any claims to power when our women rub our backs. Probably the real truth of the matter is that women will put themselves out in this way because they don’t have to listen to or fool with us men.
Snoop growls and snaps at everyone but children. Come to think of it, most of us males do the same thing. Snoop’s stops such actions when he’s patted and loved. Ditto for men! I don’t know about you guys, but I’ll sit beside my wife and hope she scratches my back. If she does, Amy will have the most loyal friend she could ever find.
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