An alternative title for this post could be “Why I’m Reconsidering this Whole Guide Dog Thing”.
The Tantus Echo does amazing things for my G-spot. Or, well, it did. But let’s start at the beginning.
First, I’ll tell you the good. The Tantus Echo is made of pure silicone, so it’s totally safe for your body. This also means that it’s super easy to clean and sterilize, which is important if you plan on sharing toys with someone. It has a diameter of 1.5 inches, so it’s not too big and not too small. There’s a slot in the base for a vibrating bullet, so if internal vibrations are your jam, you’re all set. The toy even comes with a 3-speed battery-operated bullet. Nice touch, Tantus. The base is flared, so the Echo is anal-safe, too.
The Echo is a mildly textured dildo. The ridges that run along the shaft remind me of waves. Like sound waves. Hence the name “Echo”. Ah, Tantus, you’re so clever. Anyway, these waves rub against my G-spot with amazing results. The feeling isn’t forceful or abrupt like you’d get with a firmer or more targeted toy ( Pure Wand , I’m lookin’ at you). It’s subtle, and the orgasms kind of sneak up on me. This is not a bad thing at all.
There are a few meh things about this toy. The included bullet is very buzzy. I tried it on my clit, and promptly burst out laughing. I need deeper, more rumbly vibrations to get off. When inserted into the Echo, the vibrations can hardly be felt. This isn’t a huge deal for me. If I want internal vibrations, I just swap out the included bullet for my trusty We-Vibe Salsa (the dearly departed cousin of the Tango ).
Secondly, this toy is a lint, dust and fur magnet. Again, not a big deal for me. I own other Tantus toys, and this didn’t surprise me at all. A quick rinse under water before use does the trick.
Now for the bad. The very, very bad. This is not Tantus’s fault at all. It’s mine. And my dingbat yellow Labrador’s.
One day, after jerking off with the Echo, I was flopped on my bed in a post-orgasmic haze. Suddenly, I was struck by a wave of hunger. Post-cardio carb-craving? Who knows? Anyway, I put the Echo on my nightstand, intending to run downstairs for a quick snack, then to come back up and clean the toys I’d used. My dog was in her crate with the door open, happily chomping on a bone.
A while later, I came back upstairs and went to the nightstand. No Echo. My Salsa was there where I’d left it, but no sign of the Echo. I crawled around on the floor searching for it. I swept my hands in circles. I swept them in a grid pattern. I employed every nonvisual technique I know to look for this goddamn toy. I even got stuck under the bed looking for it.
I texted a sighted friend. “I think [dog] ate my dildo.” I’m sure he cracked up at this point. “Do you want me to come help you look after work?” he texted back. “Um, yes, please.”
Later that night, he showed up and scoured my bedroom. “I don’t see it.” “Great. Uh, will you drive me to the emergency vet if it comes to that?” “Sure.” He went home.
I crawled around some more, bound and determined to find this thing. And then I found it.
The Echo? Nope. A teeny piece of silicone. And then another. And another.
“She definitely ate it. Finding tiny shreds of silicone,” I texted. “Oh god.”
I spent a sleepless night waiting for my dog to implode. You see, she had had an intestinal blockage before thanks to eating a rogue corncob. That incident required emergency surgery. I was not ready for that to happen again.
Luckily, this story has a happy ending. Ish. The next morning, when I took her out for her walk… Well, let’s just say that anyone walking by must still be wondering what the hell I feed my dog. Remember, my Echo was purple. This happened several more times throughout the day.
On the plus side, dog is totally fine. She probably hasn’t learned her lesson. I have, though. Never leave sex toys on the nightstand again.
Get the Echo directly from Tantus. I’ll be replacing mine as soon as possible.