Looking for Mr. Goodbark

...in Brooklyn.  It was one of those rendezvous that was both regrettably inevitable and inevitably regrettable.  Like I said, it was the Brooklyn you get to on one of those trains that no one really ever wants to take  - ghost trains, urban myth trains, trains that go to those parts of Brooklyn.  They only come into Manhattan far enough to let their fleeing masses disembark into the light of downtown and then slither back into...Brooklyn.

There was so much pressure to hook up, you know.  Even though we'd actually met a few months before in Chelsea, I never got his name.  The whole scene was awkward. He's a friend of a friend's boyfriend, blah, blah, blah.  So the moment comes and I think that if I cradle him to my chest and scratch the back of his head we'd doze off into shameless man-to-mutt slumber. (It's worked before.) Instead, he was playful and nippy and stuck his unwanted tongue in my face over and over again.

Finally, after a couple of hours of this I look at him, hold him by the neck and bark, "Buddy, GO TO BED!".  He curls up sadly, his backside to me and (the truth) farts.  Ewwwwwkanuba.

See, if puggle and I had chemistry, none of this would have been a problem.  But we didn't.  And so that's how it is with the Chihuahua, Lucky. We have no chemistry. 

Call me a snob, but seriously - I can't do shorties, I don't care how close parts of them come to the ground...especially ones with such mindlessly tail-waggin' kissy-kissy behavior.  Call me canine-conservative, but I like a brute with palpable reserve, one who barks when he really means it and looks hot when I'm in camos.  Lucky is undeniably athletic, trim, has great hair, an energetic outdoorsey type with the tinest of carbon footprints. And yes, he is a much-desired Latino twink (not that that matters to me, really), but he's just not my type.

It would have never worked.  And I am certain I will walk down the street one day in the future to see him in the arms of a real catch, or a real catch's sister, toted in some bangin' Louis Vuitton.  That's traditionally been just my lucky.