Bibi was a small golden puppy with the softest fur and the roundest eyes. Everyone in the neighborhood adored him, especially the children who would run to pet him whenever he trotted by with his little wagging tail. But there was one thing about Bibi that puzzled everyone: he didn’t like kisses.
Most puppies loved being smothered with kisses and cuddles. But not Bibi. The moment someone leaned close and puckered their lips, he would squirm, twist, and turn his head away. He didn’t bark angrily or bite—he was far too gentle for that—but he would wiggle out of reach, leaving the would-be kisser disappointed.
His owner, a kind young girl named Mina, noticed this from the very beginning. Mina loved Bibi more than anything, but she couldn’t resist giving him kisses. Sometimes she would scoop him into her arms, hold him close to her cheek, and whisper, “Just one kiss, Bibi.” But the puppy would push his paws against her face and turn his head.
“Why don’t you like kisses?” Mina would sigh, letting him go. “Don’t you know kisses mean love?”
Bibi, of course, couldn’t explain himself in words. All he could do was wag his tail apologetically, as though to say, I love you, Mina, but no kisses, please.
The Neighborhood Mystery
Soon, Bibi’s dislike for kisses became the talk of the neighborhood.
“Bibi doesn’t want to be kissed!” laughed Mina’s cousin Rojo. He tried leaning down to kiss Bibi on the forehead one afternoon, but Bibi hopped backward and sneezed as if to say no way! Rojo laughed even harder.
Grandma, on the other hand, shook her head. “Some dogs are just funny that way. Maybe kisses tickle his nose, or maybe he thinks it’s strange when humans get so close.”
Mina frowned. She wanted to understand her puppy, not just laugh at him.
The Failed Experiments
Determined to solve the mystery, Mina decided to run a few “experiments.”
Experiment One: Quick Kiss.
She thought maybe if she kissed Bibi quickly, he wouldn’t notice. But the moment she leaned close, Bibi ducked and her lips landed on thin air.
Experiment Two: Surprise Kiss.
She tried sneaking up on him while he was napping in his little dog bed. But Bibi woke up at the sound of her footsteps and rolled over, presenting his back instead of his face.
Experiment Three: Distract and Kiss.
She gave him a treat and thought while he was chewing, she could kiss him on the head. But no—Bibi chewed happily, then hopped away right as she leaned in.
“Ugh!” Mina groaned. “You’re impossible, Bibi.”
But the puppy just wagged his tail and licked her hand instead. That was his way of saying, See? I show love differently.
The Day at the Park
One sunny Saturday, Mina took Bibi to the park. Families were picnicking, children were playing, and other dogs were running happily across the grass.
A little boy ran up to them, squealing, “Puppy! Puppy!” He reached out to hug Bibi, and before Mina could warn him, the boy planted a big sloppy kiss on Bibi’s head.
Bibi jumped back in shock, shook himself, and sneezed. The little boy giggled. “He doesn’t like kisses!”
“Yeah,” Mina admitted, scratching Bibi behind the ears. “He never does.”
That’s when an older lady sitting on a bench nearby spoke up. She had a fluffy white dog on her lap. “Not all dogs like kisses, sweetheart. Some prefer space. Some like belly rubs instead. It’s just how they are.”
Mina blinked. “So it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love me?”
“Of course not!” the lady chuckled. “Look at the way he follows you. Look at his wagging tail. He adores you. He just shows it in his own way.”
Mina looked down at Bibi. He was wagging his tail and staring up at her with bright eyes. Suddenly, she felt a wave of understanding wash over her.
Learning Bibi’s Language
That night, Mina tried something new. Instead of leaning in for a kiss, she crouched down and let Bibi climb into her lap. She rubbed his ears gently, patted his back, and whispered, “I love you, Bibi.”
To her surprise, Bibi licked her chin happily. His little tail thumped against her leg.
“Oh,” Mina gasped. “So you do like kisses. Just…your own kind of kisses.”
From that day on, Mina stopped trying to kiss Bibi the human way. Instead, she let Bibi express himself. If he wanted to lick her cheek, she giggled and let him. If he wanted space, she gave it. If he wanted belly rubs, she gladly obliged.
The Festival Incident
One month later, Mina took Bibi to the annual town festival. People crowded the streets with balloons, cotton candy, and music. Many stopped to admire Bibi.
“He’s so cute!” one girl squealed. “Can I kiss him?”
“No,” Mina said quickly, holding Bibi close. “He doesn’t like kisses.”
But the girl didn’t listen. She leaned in, puckered her lips, and tried anyway.
Bibi squirmed so hard he almost leapt out of Mina’s arms. He barked once, loudly, startling the girl.
“See?” Mina said firmly. “He doesn’t want kisses. Please respect that.”
The girl stepped back, embarrassed, and muttered, “Sorry.”
Mina hugged Bibi close—not with kisses, but with a gentle squeeze. She realized in that moment how important it was to protect Bibi’s boundaries. Just because people wanted to smother him with affection didn’t mean he had to accept it.
A Lesson in Love
As time passed, everyone who knew Bibi came to understand his ways. Neighbors stopped trying to kiss him. Instead, they offered him pats, treats, or cheerful waves. And in return, Bibi wagged his tail and sometimes gave them a friendly lick—on his own terms.
Mina felt proud. She had learned something important from her puppy: love isn’t about forcing what you want to give. It’s about listening to what the other one needs.
One evening, as Mina lay on her bed reading, Bibi climbed up beside her. He curled into a ball, resting his head on her arm. Then, out of nowhere, he leaned forward and licked her cheek.
Mina laughed softly. “So now you give me the kisses?”
Bibi wagged his tail sleepily, as if to say, Yes, but only when I want to.
Mina kissed the air above his head—not on him, but close enough for the gesture. “I love you, Bibi. No matter what.”
Bibi sighed contentedly, drifting into sleep.
Conclusion
Bibi never grew to like human kisses. That was just who he was. But Mina and everyone else who cared for him learned to respect his feelings. And in return, Bibi gave back love in his own unique, puppyish way.
Because in the end, love wasn’t about kisses. Love was about understanding, respecting, and cherishing each other—even if that meant wagging tails instead of smooches.
And so, the little golden puppy became a beloved friend, not because he wanted kisses, but because he taught everyone a greater truth: sometimes the best way to show love is simply to let someone be themselves.
