I’ve been going to Brooklyn faithfully every week, but not only on Saturdays. Due to weather, I needed to exercise some flexibility so Carm and I could go for a nice, comfy walk. Like most women, she hates getting wet therefore a Plan B was needed. So far it’s been working out scoping the weekly weather visiting on the best day.
I went yesterday all teary and filled with gloom leaving in a much better mood. My pal Ed said, Carmela’s the cheapest therapist in town. I can see me on the couch, she sitting up on a chair, humping it of course, but nothing’s perfect.
“So tell me what’s wrong this time Susannah, but I’d like a cookie first.”
One peek at her wiggling down the stairs beats a triple dose of Prozac.
She’s even funnier than a Lucy show.
It’s as though she knows it’s me at the door since she does everything but open it, knocking me down in her delight to see me.
We went for a nice stroll along Brooklyn’s Promenade happy to be together. If I found a man that looked at me the way Carmela does, I’d be off to the races. I never thought much of the term, man’s best friend, till I met her. Her loyalty makes the two-legged, pirates in comparison.
I of course let her do exactly what she wants, so when she attempted having sex with a corgi I looked the other way. The corgi was fixed, but her reputation was at stake. I said, “You know Tubes, you don’t want people to think you’re a party girl.”
“Why not, think of the fun I’ll have.” She also doesn’t understand how some dogs, male and female, are just not interested in knowing her.
“But I’m so cute and well-built.” That she is. She’s looking more and more like Jennifer Lopez every time I see her.
Quite often I have to deal with irate owners up in arms about their little puggle being sniffed and seduced, but I say things like, “She’s harmless and just wants to be friends.” Of course there she is with her legs wide open like a fat floozy.
“I love short men.”
“Well, that’s great Carmela but he’s a girl. Did you just wink at me?”
After an hour we go back home her father insisting I stay for coffee. The cook comes out with a demure china cup and creamer waiting on me as if I’m at the Ritz. After a sip or two, I join Carm on the floor who’s been staring at me since, “Woon loomp or two?”
She drapes herself across my lap like a chubby throw rug kissing my face, my ears…working her way down to my pockets before slyly helping herself to a cookie. I’m so impressed by her smartness, I let her. Her father also watches laughing, in Spanish of course.
Ami the maid comes out with a bottle of Poland Spring…for sa soobway tain…before I take leave.
The last thing I see is Carmela’s face at the front door. “I’ll see you next week,” I say, giving her a kiss and one more biscuit for the road.
“Did you just wink at me?”
“Did you see that doberman go by?”
“Yes Carmela, I did.”
“Wasn’t he hot?”
“Isn’t he a little big for you?”
“Yeah, and your point is?”