A few months after the three of us began our adventure as roommates, Sally’s dog Tom Boy (Tommie to her friends) came into season. For those of you who don’t know exactly what this entails, it’s rather like a woman’s period. Tommie is a member of the family and lives in the house- there was no banishing her to the out-of-doors for the duration of her “visitor.” How could one girl ever do this to another? On the other hand, Theresa and I just couldn’t abide her being in the house and on the furniture without protection. So we did what any rational human being would do, we found an old pair of panties, cut a tail hole in them, inserted a pad, and put them on the dog. This may surprise you, but Tommie had no problem at all with the arrangement. The first pair we chose for her was a very chic pair of lime green boy-short style undies. She wore them with pride, and was a great sport. When she went outside she stopped to have her panties removed, and upon reentering the house she stopped again to “get dressed.” It was a great laugh and we had fun with this for more than a week, choosing new panties for Tommie and throwing the old away. While everyone else thought this odd, it really didn’t seem so strange to us. But what followed, I did find quite strange. Hilarious, actually.
A few weeks later, we were spending what began as regular evening in the log cabin. We had taken our supper, watched Wheel of Fortune, all was well. Sally had gone to take a bath and sauna and Theresa and I were doing whatever we did. I went to ask Sal a question and found her humming, dancing, and scrubbing her bathtub before she got in. This sounds normal, but I haven’t described her attire for you yet. She had stripped down to her skivvies and had her back to me, she was be-bopping around and shaking her booty to her own rhythm- which was how I noticed she seemed to be wearing a pair or the dog’s panties!!! It seems one day she had needed a new pair of panties for Tommie, so she’s offered up a pair of her own. Afterwards she dropped them into the laundry pile inadvertently, laundered them, and put them away… in her own drawer.
My reaction was to instantly fall onto the floor, laughing hysterically, and wallowing around in another pile of laundry which I now realize may have been dangerous. I couldn’t breathe, much less explain to her my hysterical fit. I think she may have believed I was having a seizure. And maybe I was, because I have never laughed that hard in my life. Hell, I’m laughing again right now. After a minute or two, Theresa came scooting into the room to see what it was that was wrong with me. I still couldn’t speak, but I managed to motion to Sally to turn around. Upon noticing the tail hole in the panties, Theresa also lost it. I think our tears of laugher may have created a small pool on the floor. Sally spent the next thirty seconds or so spinning around, quite ironically, like a dog chasing its tail until she also noticed she had donned the dog’s intimates. She laughed as well, although not quite as hard as Theresa and I did. She also didn’t call everyone she could think of to inform them of the mix-up, which Theresa and I also did.
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