Beauty and the Beast

I took Abby on our typical walk while it was still light outside.  She wore her hot pink American Apparel hoodie that had a rip in the sleeve and I was too lazy to put a different one on her for the sake of appearances.  I grabbed two doggy bags for the journey.  Several feet from our front door, Abby squatted to do her business and I figured that I would pick it up later.  We made it to the sidewalk and on the border of our property and the neighbor's, she squatted once more.  This time, I dutifully picked it up.  Since our walk had just begun, I didn't want to carry the bag with me.  I eyed my mailbox and dragged Abby toward it, hiding the bag in the tall weeds on the back side of the post.  I turned around to continue the walk and was met with resistance:  Abby was once more in the squatting position.  I had no idea how one slender dog could store so much poo inside.  Not risking the chance of a fourth maneuver, I decided to handle it later and dragged her down the walkway toward the library.  There were cars in the parking lot but no one was outside as we walked by the front doors.  At the tennis courts, I could discern the out of town accents from the players on the courts as they took in the beautiful Spring weather.  We returned to the library which is where I saw him.  

This wasn't the first time I noticed the glorious specimen of a male.  On many evenings as I walked around town with Abby, we passed each other on opposite sides of the street, never once meeting.  Oh, he was 100% English of this I was certain. He was black with a beautiful thick white mane and a perfectly centered white streak from his head to his nose. What a glorious English Shepherd and he sat rigid and obedient next to his owner on the library bench.  He refused to make eye contact with us.  Abby pined for him, pulled toward him.  I tried to use the bushes as camouflage and avoid all contact but she protested with loud whines.  I heaved forward dragging my country dog with the off center white stripe, raggedy pink hoodie hiding her itchy spots and thin coat that was slowly growing back.  I struggled with my Pretty Woman while the Richard Gere of dogs ignored her.  She was my Molly Ringwald in Pretty in Pink.  The dog from the wrong side of the tracks who was drawn to the posh stud from the right family. "Oh look at that dog!" shouted a group across the street.  They pointed to the Lion King who seemed to sit just a tiny bit taller.  "And there's another one!" cried another person and pointed to Abby as I pulled her down the street.  

My cheeks felt hot and were probably the same color as her hoodie.  I retrieved my hidden treasure bag from the mail box, took care of the piles left behind by Abby and immediately ordered another hoodie from American Apparel in hot pink.  I had one article of clothing that was about to be retired. The next time we met, Oh Beautiful One, Abby would be the Beauty and not the Beast.