I have 25 minutes to write a column and zero questions from you fools.

Before you forget, slap some random shit together and email me your queries about life ( and I’ll give you sage advice, stern words and a smack on that candied ass.

Instead of getting in your pants this week, I’m going to tell you about my late-dog Alli’s love affair with a teddy bear.

I got the lab/chow pup in college while at the University of Florida when she was a mere six weeks old. She was the sweetest little fuzz cake. She’d ride in my hoodie pocket as I’d cruise around Gainesville, she’d nuzzle under my chin during Lifetime movie marathons and she’d sun herself on the back of the couch like a kitty.

Of course I spoiled the broad.

Her favorite gift was big, white, fluffy teddy bear who wore a Santa outfit.

In what seemed like a week, Alli towered six times the size of Santa Bear. The pretty girl would still sun herself on the back of the couch (half of her body spilling over) and she’d still sit in my lap. Then she developed a new habit. It involved Santa Bear becoming her special friend.

When animals hump, it’s a sign of dominance. But Alli’s Santa Bear wasn’t just her bitch, it was her lover. I’d watch her whisper sweet nothings into his ear. She’d bathe him with her slobbery tongue. She’d carry him to the bedroom and lay on his chest. She’d nuzzle his puffy tail. I even watched her nose a treat to him one time.

However, she also made a sport out of hoisting him under her front legs, maneuvering him back between her hind legs and riding him until she made funny noises.

It was a fun party trick until my roommate’s parents came over to visit after church and Alli would show that stuffed cub who wore this family’s fur. I tried throwing the bear out in embarrassment (shhh, that’s a stupid pun), but Alli dug its matted ass out of the trash.

I often had to put Santa Bear in timeout when “important people” were coming over.

Then there was that time when I had a raging party (read: 20 people), and a famous University of Florida football player made an appearance as a guest of my upstairs neighbors. While he was filling up his beer in the kitchen, guess what Alli did? She dragged the bear right next to him and took it to pleasure town.

“What the fuck?” I heard Mr. Gator mumble.

I realize the dog couldn’t physically perform coitus with an inanimate object, but come on, Alli. In front of a Florida cornerback?

We ended up tossing Santa Bear before a move. I felt bad that Alli lost her bear and I even bought her a new one. Alli wanted nothing to do with it. I had such guilt for tossing Alli’s pal.

What would she do now?

My spirits were raised for my pup when I moved home after college (you know the drill) and she found a new bear to hump — my mom’s freakishly tall yellow lab, Brigid. Alli wasn’t at all shy about taking her to town in front of mom and dad’s dinner parties. She’d even hang on to Brigid’s back fat with her teeth.

Now that my sweet girl is gone, I hope she’s reunited with Santa Bear and Brigid in doggie heaven. There’s nothing like humping the afterlife away.

Christy Fantz: fantzypants