I say pseudo-dating because I've encouraged him to date on eHarmony and Match rather than actually dating me. We still hang out, as friends do, and flirt a lot, but that is about all that happens.
I'm a pretty terrible date. I really have no interest in dating, but I do have an interest in hanging out, laughing, and being the object of someones affection.
This works out perfectly.
This morning we went to breakfast. A breakfast made sort of awkward by a 50-lb dog named Duncan.
I'm guessing Duncan's weight. I hope I don't give him a complex or cause an eating disorder.
Duncan, if you are reading this, I'm terrible at guessing things. My apologies. Maybe you only weigh 30 pounds. Please don't hate me. I think you are beautiful.
Anyways, Duncan is part Great Dane and a pretty solid piece of dog. Yesterday AM said he was "a horse in a dog costume," which is true.
Duncan belongs to KT. KT is in Bend learning stuff. Duncan needs a friend while KT is gone. I'm that friend.
I think he finds me boring. I mean, I take him for walks and I pet him and feed him, but I have a feeling KT does exciting things I don't know about. That is the only reason I can think of for why Duncan stares at me with a bored expression, as if to say, "Criminal Minds, again?"
He does listen to me. And he is a good boy. But he can do pretty funny stuff.
Like this morning.
So as soon as we sit down for breakfast, outside, Duncan goes right for B's crotch. This dog is a total crotch rocket. It doesn't matter - male, female, old, young, child, or animal - Duncan will smell your crotch.
It is like his handshake. How are ya? Nice to meat ya? BOOM! Nose to the crotch.
I apologize the first time. Three seconds later, he does it again.
I apologize a second time and pull Duncan's leash a bit closer to me.
"Oh no, he is fine, he is cute." B assures me.
I'm pretty sure ten minutes later, when Duncan is sitting under the table just staring at B's crotch, B thinks it is not so cute.
"Did you spill anything on your pants?" I ask.
"Uh, no."
Our food comes and we are sitting there chatting. Duncan has slowly inched over towards the edge of the table so that he can watch people walk by.
Another thing about Duncan, he is absolutely adorable. People stop all the time to pet him and ask his age, breed, and sexual orientation. Okay, kidding, they ask about his temperament. As if you would admit, while having a dog in public, that he is a beast. "Oh, is he just a sweetheart? I bet he is the nicest dog!"
So as we are eating our omelets, Duncan has been charming everyone who passes. Finally, he gets a hit.
Two woman are walking our way, glammed up in pretty sundresses, heels and over-sized sunglasses.
One stops.
"Oh my gosh! How old is he? Can I pet him?"
And Duncan, recognizing the impending shower of affection, wags his tale and bows his head as if to say "Yes, you can pet me. Yes, I am handsome."
Right as Glam Girl #1 crouches down to pet him, Duncan looks at Glam Girl #2 as she ignores Duncan and punches away on her IPhone.
Duncan doesn't cotton to being ignored. Because Glam Girl #1 was right there, I had loosened my grip on his leash just slightly enough for him to get petted, but apparently enough for Duncan to make his move.
He stands up and in a flash has his head under Glam Girl #2's skirt.
It takes her a second to figure out why her friend is laughing. GG #2 is wearing a poofy skirt and she is on her cell phone.
But once she realizes there is a dog head up her skirt, she starts screaming.
Almost as soon as Duncan stuck his head up her skirt, I start pulling on his leash. But he is determined and won't budge.
GG #2 is frozen in place.
I reach out and grab Duncan by his collar and yank him back to me.
GG #2 gives me a terrible glare. GG #1 is laughing. They stroll away.
And I can't help it. I start laughing uncontrollably. My peals of laughter could be heard ten blocks away, I'm sure.
"What a pervert," B says of Duncan.
And Duncan doesn't even have the decency to look apologetic. He lays down on this side and thumps his tail several times in row before closing his eyes and going to sleep.
Being an embarrassment is exhausting work.
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