Here and Queer: The Life of a Gay Labrador

The Hoffman Chronicles: Episode 1

My name is Detective David Hoffman of the Los Angeles Police Department, and I am a homoflexible black lab.

For those who aren’t in the know, that means I am mostly gay, but I’m sometimes down for some furry play with what you humans so callously refer to as “a bitch.” I personally don’t vibe with that type of degrading terminology, because this this dog is a feminist king.

Now, I know you may be thinking, “Geez, another story about a gay dog? You must be barking mad!” And to that I’d say, (a) your pun game is on point, and (b) queer stories are grossly underrepresented in the media. Better representation is crucial in helping normalize and validate the lives of those who can’t conform to traditional, heteronormative standards. So please, step your goofy ass to the side and let this Labrador tell his story.

Now, back to the top because I know you’re wondering about my name. I’m named after a bold, intrepid Shepard on a short-lived spoof comedy show that aired on TBS called “Angie Tribeca.” My humans absolutely loved that show. Unfortunately, they may have been the only humans watching it. No one ever gets where my name comes from.

So now that we have that out of the way, let me tell you about my journey as a queer dog.

I’m a black lab with humble roots in Oklahoma, and I was born along the side of the highway. My mother, may her soul rest in power, did everything she could to let us prosper as strong, independent dogs. But eventually the cruelty of the world struck her down in her prime, and we were forced to fend for ourselves before we were ready.

Fortunately for us, we were rescued by Noah’s Ark animal shelter, and we were all adopted very quickly. I found a new home where I was able to destroy all the toys my little heart desired.

But one day, I saw something that my little heart desired more than anything else. He was a dashing, four legged, spotted white stud. He had the ears of an Adonis, and a tail as tempting as the devil himself.

And his name was even Humphrey, which meant “Hump” was literally in his name. It was like he was taunting me. It was torture. I felt an unquellable, lustful fire brewing within me, and desire consumed my very existence.

But something about it felt wrong. Everything in me felt so right, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that what I was doing wasn’t okay.

You see, being born a gay dog in Oklahoma is tough. The humans and dogs of Oklahoma weren’t the most accepting bunch. I internalized a lot of negative messaging about the way dogs should be, and what it means to be a masculine canine.

There’s this notion that a dog’s masculinity is determined by the number ladies he can breed, and his worth is determined by the number of pups he can bring into this world.

These are simply things I can’t do though. I’m a homosexual dog. I can’t conform to this role the world is trying to force me into. I couldn’t produce offspring even if I wanted to, because I just can’t do the thing that would allow me to procreate, which is of course that I can’t hump a bitch.

But there’s power in knowing I can’t conform, because there’s always going to be a part of me that fells free. I feel free to live the way I was meant to live. I feel free to live a way that makes me happy. I’ve broken the shackles of heteronormativity and ditched the idea that passing down my DNA is the only way for me to lead a fulfilling life.

Plus, my humans cut my balls off, so I don’t even have any seed to deposit in the first place. I mean, if you want to talk about being liberated from those societal pressures, my humans did me a big solid by snipping my family jewels.

So, there I was, a gay, ball-less dog, faced with this svelte, furry god, and I managed to find the strength within me to throw caution to the wind and shoot my shot.

And yeah, I humped that beautiful, canine stallion. I humped him hard. And it was wonderful. All of my humans were uncomfortable with the fact that I did it with them watching, but other than that they were very supportive.

From that day forward, I felt liberated. I was free to be me and sniff the butts of all the boy dogs out walking the streets. I finally felt comfortable in my own fur, and I was ready to take the world by the bone.

I’m proud of who I am, and I want the world to know it. Hear me and hear me loud people! I’m David Hoffman, and I am here, and I am queer.

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