I’m in Greenpoint, the Detroit of Brooklyn, making my way home passing a furniture store. 
It’s not one that would normally catch my eye, since it looks like what my friend Camille would call, Early Bunker, but then something does catch my eye, two to be exact.
The biggest, brownest bedroom pair on four legs right in the heart of Brooklyn.
A pit the size of a Humvee is seated on a sofa like King Tut. 
I have to go in.
“Are you the owner,” I purr, praying he doesn’t bite my leg thinking I’m a furniture felon.
This has nothing to do with his pit-hood. If he was a Yorkie the size of a squeegie, I’d still be cautious before holding out the palm of my hand, in a gesture of goodwill.
He hops off the couch, the perfect host, to sniff me from stem to stern. In other words, hand to crotch, before nuzzling me like a sexy sailor.
“Excuse me,” I say grinning, “but have we properly met?”
Just then a 40ish looking, large male pops out of an office and says, “Joey, rememba’ ya mannas’…youes’ a genelman’.”
I’m so charmed, I suddenly find myself seated on a futon in the shape of a grapefruit.
Only in Brooklyn.
Joey was rescued by Harry when he was about 8 months old, now 3. He was freezing in the cold by the corner subway stop when Harry was coming to work.
After giving him half of his egg and cheese sandwich, that was it, Joey became Harry’s.
“Why did you name him Joey?”
Joey Gallo was a friend’a my fatha’s, also kinda’ brave and dumb at da’ same time, with loads’a choom’ too so, hey, it’s a good’a name as any.”
Joey Gallo was a gangster who got gunned down in 1972, on his 43rd birthday in Little Italy, his face last seen in a plate of scungilli.
After regaining myself, kissing Joey on the head ready to leave, Harry says, “Ya know, everybady’s’ afraid’a him, and youes’, such a lady ( I have on ripped jeans and a hoodie with Jackie glasses that make me look like a large bee) just comes struttin’ in here. Can wes’ give ya a hug?”
Now before I can say yes or no, he throws his Popeye arms around me, hugging me so tight, I may have dropped a dress size, while Joey wraps himself around my legs.
Think ménage a’ trois’ with a sectional plus a tail.
And despite what it may sound like, it’s not a flirty hug at all, just an old-fashioned show of innocent affection I can’t help basking in.
When I’m at the corner about to go down the stairs to get the train, I turn to find Harry and Joey waving, making me wonder, just how that grapefruit might look in my living room.
🙂
SB
Ahhh Susannah! What a wonderful story to share! I’m half in love with Joey and Harry myself!
And, by the way, doesn’t matter what you are wearing, the way a woman carries herself does all the talkin’ and Harry and Joey ain’t no dummies, obviously…
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I just found that part funny. I mean, I looked like a Punk/Dickens character in Foster Grants, which by the way, are a great deal. I am such a pit lover. Maybe it’s my tendency to root for the underdog, no pun intended, but they never fail to stop me in my tracks. Thanks, and Happy Easter, Passover? To you.
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Of course you did. But I am positive your “lady” side still shines 😉
They are such beauties, I don’t blame ya.
Happy Easter to you too! 🙂 🐤💐🐇
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Thanks very much. Quiet here in the Big Apple. Hope you and Zeke, and all those you love enjoy the day.
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Quiet in this here house. One son is gone to a friend’s the other is still sleeping so Zeke and I will take a break from packing boxes (we move June 1) and take a walk in the sunshine (finally warm!) This afternoon we are expecting 64F (I know, big whup as you guys have gone way past that already….)
Have a wonderful day, Susannah.
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It’s only 61 here and very cloudy, so there. Nice you’re finally moving. I know it’s what he wanted. Give Zeke a hug for me.
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Well now… You have had warmer temps on other days 😉
Yes. It is extremely difficult for me, right now. It’s the last “big” piece of our life together.
He kisses you in return 🙂
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I understand better than you know. sigh
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I know you do. Sigh in synchro
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What a wonderful encounter! Joey could feel your love streaming out.
We were in a junk shop in the mountains yesterday, and our charmer was Molly. Grandson David went right for her after checking with the owner. She held a tennis ball in her mouth most of the time. While we looked at old records and books, Molly barked. She had let the ball go, and it rolled under a chair. The owner tilted the chair to expose the ball, and she was happy again. That became David’s role as rescuer for the remainder of our browsing time. I’m kicking myself for not taking a photo of man and dog together.
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Don’t kid yourself, Molly was the owner of the shop…:)
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I’ll tell David. He’ll get a kick out of that.
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Giggles are our main aim here at athingirl.com 🙂
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David and John laughed aloud when I told them about you and Joey. Mission accomplished.
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Tell David and John, Joey and I are dating. It truly proves opposites attract. 😎
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Doggone! Wait! The dog hasn’t gone. Happy dating!
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I have to keep reminding him to stop…puttin’ on the dog…but you know how men are. 🙂
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Hot diggity dog! You are right.
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It’s dog eat dog if I’m not careful. You know what say about a dog with big paws doncha Anne?
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I’ve heard about big paws. What about big maws?
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Ya got me…I fold…:)
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Joey has muscles on his muscles, and no matter . . because he’s got a leash on my heart. That dude is a love magnet. How do you NOT love that guy?!!!
When Harry met Joey . . the world got more sensible.
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If you saw this guy who looks like a hit man on the weekends, you’d get a little chill, but then you’d think, it’s the Italian Timmy and Lassie, then out of fear, buy a piece of furniture, fruity of otherwise. 🙂
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The Italian Timmy and Lassie could have been a sitcom back in the ’80s, yanno?
Oh, I would most likely stick to traditional. Unless there was a plum tomato recliner to be gotten . . .
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It was half Jetsons, half, we’re goin’ to da mattresses. 🙂
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It would get at least one season.
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Ha
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🙂
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Don’t know about the grapefruit but the pitty sounds like a great dog . Is that an actual picture or is that just a stock photo ? Love that chocolate color . Have seen labs like that . Sounds like you made a new friend !
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I’m not in Greenpoint very often, but I guess if I stopped in I’d probably get a cannoli in the shape of a bone. He is a beautiful, COLOSSAL, doggie to be sure, proving, you can’t judge a pit by his size and color. He’s like Nana in Peter Pan.
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You have such a way of bringing out the best in man or beast! Hugs with no strings attached are the best.
As for the grapefruit chair, I think you should hold out for mango.
I hope your Easter was a happy one.
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Yeah, I actually hate grapefruit as a rule. To say the furniture is kitsch is an understatement. Thanks for reading. 🙂
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Oh, perhaps, dinner with the mister or walking Joey, but please…not the grapefruit! lol
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You said it pal. I’m happy to report, I snapped out of my fruity stupor. 🙂
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Sweet story, sweet pup, and sweet grapefruit chair!
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Yes, it was a sweet story I’m happy I was privy to tell. Thanks a lot.
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