A Dog And A Woman
A friend (ryan cayabyab) and I walked out the front door of the bar. Feeling great after ideating on our perfect futures and reflecting on our imperfect pasts, we turned the corner to see we had parked our cars next to the other’s.
As we traversed the ancient sidewalkian terrain, preparing to cross the street to meet our respective vehicles, Ryan and I locked eyes with this pretty little thing.
She had long, golden hair, soft and sweet brown eyes, and a loving smile. Without permission (or competition), we both dove in, hands first.
Ryan grabbed her by the face and told her how beautiful she was. I rubbed her back as if she were an old friend and it was great to see her.
As we attempted to act like we weren’t total weirdos, we said goodbye to the golden retriever and crossed the street to our cars. I scraped my keys from my jeans’ pocket just as the encounter from across the street finally sunk into my brain. I turned to Ryan and said, “There was a really beautiful woman walking that dog.”
“Huh,” he thought for a moment, “there was, wasn’t there?”
We laughed, shook our heads, and headed our separate directions.
It was, after all, just another day in the life of two dog-loving idiots happy with the woman we each have at home.
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