As I’m walking into the bank, there’s a young man waiting in line with three old dogs slumped on the floor.
It’s always a delight when any establishment is animal friendly.
Without pause I say, “Hi guys…how are you this morning,” holding out my palm so they could make the choice to be schmoozey or not.
And did they. The littlest one, a Jack Russell, if he could would have hopped in my pocket.
Charmed as always, I bent down to pet them all.
The walker, not the owner…you can tell right away since there’s an impersonal smell in the air…unlike when I walk Carmela who you assume I gave birth to…flipped around like an Apache dancer to say,”How dare you pot these dogs.”
“Excuse me? I didn’t mean them any harm…besides, they’re quite happy being fussed over.” I said this smiling my most compelling smile that clearly needs work.
“Con’t you see I’m bonking?”
“You’re standing in line like the rest of us (now we had an audience), so you’re not quite bonking yet.” This caused a couple of chuckles that enraged this 25 year-old with questionable papers after hearing that accent. I had to make a decision…will I tactfully let this asshole be or will I take him on for being such an asshole.
By the way, this is a frequently asked question for anyone remotely sane living in New York City.
I was afraid he’d take it out on the animals, something I’ve seen before, and these three dogs clearly already had self-esteem issues. You could tell by their droopy ears and dropped tails. This group needed love (and Prozac) in a big way.
I let it go, even when he said, “You’re a stu-peed woo-man.”
I bit my lip so hard it bled.
No buddy, I’m not so stupid, if I were I’d be carrying a gun and you’d be at a Citibank in the sky.
No, I didn’t say that.
The old Akita with patches of fur missing looked at me with big brown eyes so I left it there. I watched them leave praying he wouldn’t abuse them. He didn’t.
Me and Mike the Nectar delivery kid watched as they went down 79th Street. The fact he allowed them to sniff was a good sign.
Then Mike said,”The soup of the day is chicken and rice,” another frequently asked question.
“Thanks,” I said, maybe later.