Today, the doctor removed the bandages that protected the finger which had been sewn up after Leo chowed down on it last week. The doctor can't be blamed for letting out a shocked gasp when she saw the chewed hamburger lump of flesh that is my left third finger.
Despondent, I reverted to behavior patterns that I thought I had overcome: I hit a local eatery and ordered a ham and cheese.
Just when I thought I hit bottom I noticed a familiar face. A face that I had once been in a feud with.
It was Shannon. Of my blog fame.
"Hey."
"Go away--I am adopting the story of my monkey-husband for the screen! I am sorry you have failed as a writer, but not all of us want to share the same fate!!"
But I could plainly see that she was just coloring in a coloring book.
I sat down at the table next to her.
Speaking to no one in particular, I said, "I got a dog to meet girls. And all he has done is make me so hideous as to be unacceptable to even the most saintly of women."
Shannon, also talking to no one in particular said, "You have to take Leo to public places."
I,to no one at all, "I take him for walks at the ol' fishing hole and my basement, and the junk yard. But there aren't even girls my own age at any of these places."
Shannon pretending to talk on her cell phone, "Take Leo to one of those training classes to make your dog into a Police Dog. Then you will no doubt meet many eligible young ladies and they will be forced to see you week after week, unless they want to loose their tuition."
I finished my meal with a quiet dignity, plotting and scheming to meet some girls who would have to risk a sizable class tuition to get out of our relationship.
