Posted by By at November 11, 2009 Print

Here’s a little incident that took place about eight years ago. It just came back to me as I was walking Harley, here in LA. (Hey, is there anybody out there reading this. Let me know. I guess you can use the comments section. But if your an asshole and you just want to say how much you don’t like my stories then don’t leave a comment, okay. Anyway, I’ve been neglecting this blog- but I’m back and some more new stuff will follow soon. Thanks for reading.)

I was still wearing my black suit. But, Harley needed his walk. It was a hot sticky Saturday night in August and Harley and I were doing our usual walk, in the park. Harley and I take a walk around 10:30 just about every night. Tonight, however, we started our walk at 11:30. I had something to do today…Harley patiently waited.

Harley doesn’t believe in leash laws. So I respect his decision and never force him to wear one. Except in Manhattan. Because people in Manhattan get angry and say things, even if they lack the courage to say something to your face, they say it from a safe distance after they walk away. They feel it’s their responsibility to reprimand you and the dog for not being on a leash. (Same shit in LA) That’s all I will say about that, for now. Harley is well behaved, doesn’t run off, never crosses the street -until I let him know that it’s “Okay”. Harley loves to be free and explore and enjoy all the fascinating scents of the park. He’s a dog. That’s what dogs do. That’s what makes him happy. Well that, and me coming home.

He is also a very social animal. He hates when he greets you and you don’t say “hello” to him. Well hate is to strong a word…I think a better word is “depressed”. He becomes depressed. It’s me that hates when people don’t say hello. Anyway, I don’t let him spend too much time with people…I don’t want him to pick up any bad habits. Kids are fine. It’s just people that I don’t want him spending time with. He’s also great with other dogs. He ALWAYS says hello to other dogs. He whimpers at me until I know it’s OK to approach the other dog. I never let him just run up to any other dog, especially in The Bronx. Dogs reflect, represent, acquire, become and absorb who “their Person” is. To put it in the language of my beloved, oppressive, if not very limiting, native tongue of The Bronx: “They’re just as miserable – as the pricks who own them”. And in some cases – the miserable Bitches…

Wow. This chick is hot. I thought to myself. Our dogs were greeting each other. Sniffing each other’s butts. Trying to figure each other out. She was beautiful. She was in her mid, maybe late thirties. Though her clothing suggested she was the same age as Brittany Spears. Tank top, no bra. The tank top stopped, perfectly, exactly, strategically, directly above her gorgeous belly button, which of course was decorated with a very noticeable silver belly ring. Her breasts were small and absolutely delicious to look at. She also had on a sexy pair of hip hugging, low-rise sweat pants. She let me know she had a perfect ass as she bent down/over to remove the leash from her tiny fluffy white dog.

A black thong tortures me, as it teasingly rises out and over her hip hugging sweat pants. This NEVER happens. At least not at 11:30 at night – in the park – in The Bronx!!

“Nice shoes,” she says as she slowly looks up at me. “Great ass” I thought, but “Thank You” is what came out. “You always walk your dog in a suit,” she says in a tough Bronx accent. “No”. I say wanting to bite her ass. “I just got back from somewhere…” “Oh Fuck!” She screams out. “Your dog is trying to hump my dog.” “Harley!” I snap. Harley stops mounting the small fluffy white dog. “Your dogs a fag,” she states. “Cher is a boy too and your dog is…trying to..Oh man your dog’s Gay”.

“Your dogs name is Cher?” I ask hiding a smirk.

She responds with “Yeah. You have a problem with that”.

I smile and lie to her, “No. I wasn’t sure what you said”.

“Yeah his name is Cher,” she says admiring her dog.

I stayed silent a few seconds not quite sure where this was going. It’s not like I can sniff her butt and “know what she’s about”.

“Your dog still HAS his balls?” The lady with the delicious breast said to me.

“Yeah,” I casually answer.

“I cut Cher’s balls right off when he was a puppy”. She yapped and yapped some more. “It’s not good for males to have them. He’s five now. It causes problems for them and shit. My Vet, she said it gives them Cancer when they get older. She said it’s the best thing I could do for Cher…to cut his balls off. It also controls the dog. Makes them obedient. Keeps them from running away. Got into a big fight with my husband over this. He didn’t want to cut his balls off.”

“Your husband?” I interject.

” No, not his. I wish. I’m talking about the dogs balls not my husbands.” She said and then continued. “But I kept insisting. Cher has to lose his balls. You know, like it’s easier to control him. He’ll live longer. My husband didn’t care. So one day when my Husband was out of town on a business trip. He’s a cop. Like cops go on business trips. Anyway, I took Cher to my Vet and she snipped Cher’s balls off. It was the best thing for him. My husband was so pissed when he got back from his trip.”

I wasn’t shocked at what she was saying. Just about every woman I know who has a male dog has had his balls cut off for the same “reasons” that this gorgeous, psycho dingbat with the great ass has. Only, she waited for her husband to go out of town!!?? Harley was born with balls so he gets to keep them. It’s not for me to decide. It’s not a dog’s problem if “people” need control. People are irresponsible, so let the animals suffer. Oh Yeah, that makes sense.

“You had Cher’s balls cut off” I said trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of how that sounded. “Yeah. Shit yeah” she continued with more passion. “My stupid husband didn’t want it done. It’s for the good of the dog I kept telling him. He got so mad at me when Cher’s balls came off. At least the dog is not running AROUND I tell him. Cher is so much more tame and friendly and easier to control. The motherfucker went out and bought a Rottweiler…I never let that dog in the house. Big ugly scary dog. Could have eaten Cher with one bite”.

Harley, bored with Cher has moved on. Although Cher can’t take the hint and is following Harley very closely. Every now and then Cher’s nose bumps and sniffs Harley’s butt. I want to follow Harley’s lead and walk away. But I had a difficult day. She was entertaining. And I just wanted to look at this “woman” for a little while longer. She was becoming emotional and very animated as she spoke and I was…Well, I was hoping that something might pop out from that tiny tank top. You got a problem with that.

“That big stupid dog.” She barked on, “He named that thing Cujo. Asshole. So one night, when he was sleeping, I ‘forgot’ to close the gate in the back yard. He spent weeks looking for that big black beast. He had the NYPD out looking for that dog. He never liked Cher. Well, Cher never liked him either. He never walked her…

“You just said, He never walked her” I cut her off.

“Just wanted to see if you were listening” she said too quickly. And continued with “He never walked him. Always to tired. Or it’s to late. Or he had a headache. Or get that fluffy white thing out of the bathroom when I shower or I will start using him as a sponge. He hated Cher”.

She shut up for a second.

Great ass and I watch Cher, in silence, as he licks Harley’s balls. I think: Cher misses his own balls. But I say “YOUR dog is gay.”

She ignored me and continued with “What’s your thing? Why haven’t you cut your dogs balls off? It’s not like they’re yours.”

I paused several seconds, deciding which way to go with this, before I answer. It’s not like they’re yours she said. Do I want to get into a debate with a woman who CAN NOT hear another point of view or the real reason/excuse why she cut her dogs balls off? I don’t really care what she thinks or feels, no matter how great her ass is. I had a really bad day and I am in no mood for “opinions”. I was simply enjoying watching her. She was not important to me, so why be angry with her? But what came out of my mouth was…

“Your Husband divorced you, right. You guys aren’t together any more.”

I can tell by her nipples that this was not the answer she expected. She paused to plan her attack. Then launched, “What the fuck do you know about me? What gives you the right to say anything!!? No. Yes. We are divorced. I left him. I…LEFT…HIM. What made you say we were divorced!!

I didn’t answer.

“What? What made you say that?! ” She screamed and flailed her arms at me.

“A hunch,” I calmly answered.

“A hunch,” The beautiful crazy woman screamed back. “A hunch? I did not give you permission to have hunches about me. I don’t even know you. You think you know me? Having hunches about me? You have no idea about my life or how that evil monkey of a man treated me. The pain and misery he has put me through. The nights I sat up waiting for him. The nights he hit me. The nights he never came home.”

I felt nothing for this beautiful , strange woman, with a perfect ass and delicious looking breasts, as she screamed at me and told me her problems. I thought: Sure is a lot of shit hidden underneath this very inviting cover. She felt the need to scream at me some more. Had she said nothing I would have went home with a perfect memory. A great ending to my very long day.

I didn’t take it personally.

I let her scream so she did, “How dare you judge me. Looking at me like I’m some freak. Don’t you dare judge me. I did not give you permission. I did not give you permission!! He was evil. You don’t know my pain. You know nothing…Standing there in your expensive shoes and Italian suit!! What the fuck are you thinking wearing a suit to the park?!!”

I answered her calmly and precisely, void of any emotion.

“I buried my cousin today. I just came back from his funeral funeral.”

She stood there in all her perfection, silent, staring at me with the stupidest look on her face.

“Come Harley,” I said and walked away not looking back at this perfect and insecure, wounded, Bitch.


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