It was finally summer. I just moved out of my parents' home and had found an apartment for myself and my best friend Harry, a ninety pound mutt that I had rescued from the local dog pound when I entered high school. He had been my constant and loyal companion for the past five years and there was no way that I was going to leave without him. We had gone everywhere and done everything together, and now that we were out on our own, I needed to find a place for Harry to do his thing, if you know what I mean. At my parent's house, Harry would have the run of two acres of land, so picking up piles of dog shit wasn't a worry. He would head off into the wooded section of our property, do what he had to do, and then come back to play. Now I needed to find a place where we could continue to do what we liked to do…shit wherever we wanted and play. I knew of a park that was within walking distance of where we now lived, but I also knew that it got rather crowded once the day started to warm up. Therefore, Harry and I needed to wake up early to avoid anyone or anything that would disturb our perfect life.
Things went well for the first week. We had the park to ourselves for more than an hour each day, and when other people would start to arrive we would leave. The beginning of the second week, however, brought about a drastic change in our lives. We reached our destination at the usual time, only to find a woman and her dog playing in "our" park. Harry looked up at me with quizzical eyes, then at the two intruders, and then at me once more, as if asking, "What the hell is going on? Who the fuck is that?" I shrugged my shoulders, trying to let him know that there really wasn't anything I could do about it, and that he'd have to cope.
I took the leash off of his collar and let him loose, knowing that at that point in time, taking a dump was his number one priority. Harry headed off to his usual, out of the way spot, lifted his leg and then did what he really had to do, never taking his eyes off of the other dog. I truly expected Harry to stay with me when he was done, but as soon as he finished, he took off in the direction of the woman and her dog.
"Harry. No!" I yelled, but my effort was useless.
Harry covered the distance in seconds, which was no small accomplishment for him. I have to admit that he was a bit overweight, but I had never seen him run so fast in his life, even when he wasn't so generously proportioned. As I trotted over to where the three of them now where, I watched as the woman introduced herself to Harry with a playful rub to his head and affectionate scratch to his chin. After that, Harry made a beeline for her dog, with both of them introducing themselves to each other the way all dogs do, with a lengthy sniff of each other's ass. Once the preliminaries were through, they both took off in some sort of dog contest to see who could run the fastest to nowhere. When I finally reached the woman, she was standing with her back toward me, arms folded in front of herself and watching the two dogs enjoy each other.
"Sorry about that," I said slightly out of breath. "I didn't think he would come over here. He usually listens pretty well."
"That's alright," the woman said as she turned to face me. "Princess seems to be enjoying his company."
As she turned to talk to me, I saw that she was an older woman. I understand "now" that middle-aged isn't old, but it's still a couple of decades spent on earth longer than myself. It was quite apparent that she hadn't expected to meet anyone at the park this early in the morning. Her blond hair was tied back into a short ponytail and she wore no makeup. Her face, however, still exhibited a fresh appearance and attitude. Her less than perfectly proportioned teeth and nose, along with her strikingly high cheeks, may have possibly induced an advertising agency in a time gone by to say that she had a "farm-fresh", natural look. To me, she was sort of cute. The way she was dressed would only add to the marketing campaign which could have been designed for her traits. She was wearing a plaid, worn out, cotton shirt. Its tails were tied in front, exposing a small portion of her stomach. Her belly button was an "inner". A pair of worn, cut-off jeans, that were probably shorter than they should have been and a size too small, covered her ass. Maybe they fit her body a few years ago, when she was a few pounds lighter and a few inches firmer, but now her thighs bulged out slightly at the edge of the pants leg. Calf-high white socks and a pair of hiking boots completed her attire for this morning's excursion with her dog into the park.
At first, she must have forgotten about her appearance, but the longer we talked, exchanging inconsequential pleasantries about the weather and our dogs, and the more she looked at me, the more uncomfortable she seemed to be about how she appeared. She started to fuss with her hair and her clothing the way women do when they think that they look totally unattractive. She pulled at this and poked at that, fidgeted over here and fiddled over there, until finally I couldn't take it anymore. I had to say something.
"Is anything wrong?" I asked.
"I must look horrible," she said bluntly, sounding nervous and awkward. "I…got up late…and…threw on anything that was hanging around so I could get Princess here. I feel like a slob."
"Don't be silly. You look fine. Besides, there's nobody here. Just me and Harry. And he was in a pretty big hurry to come over and see you. You know, he doesn't single out just anyone to be his friend."
"That's right," she said with a smile. "He picked you, didn't he."
"That's right," I confirmed proudly. "And now he's picked you too."
"I think Princess had something to do with that."
We both looked as our two dogs frolicked in the grass without a care in the world.
"Well…maybe," I said, turning to look at her again. Her green eyes nearly matched the color of the grass.
"Not maybe," she said, nodding her head in the direction of our dogs once more. "I'd say definitely."
I turned to see what she was alluding to. Harry was now doing the other thing that dogs are famous for. He was standing behind Princess, his forepaws wrapped tightly around her waist. His hips were pumping back and forth like the driving piston of and old-style locomotive. A stupid, happy grin was painted on his face.
"Harry!" I yelled at the top of my voice. "Cut that out! Harry!"
Once again, my dog paid no attention to what I said. He continued to dry-hump this woman's dog until he wanted to stop. When he finished, Princess happily turned to face him, playfully bent her head down to the ground, and then took off on another run across the field, with Harry puffing behind.
"Sorry about that. He's not being a very good boy today."
