Sid Stein's Dog Has A Date

When my wife and I split up, she got the kids and I got the dog. Granted, the dog is a beautiful golden retriever, but she is not the best conversationalist. You might think that my ex-wife had the greater custodial burden, but in reality, such was not the case. My eldest, a son, was graduating from college, a daughter was in her sophomore year, another daughter was completing high school and heading to Israel for a year abroad, and the youngest had decided to go to high school there and was living with her aunt in Jerusalem. The dog, on the other hand, was going nowhere.

Everyone knows that dogs are a man’s best friend, and in one sense, this is true. My dog, Buffy, is a loyal and trusted friend (in case you are wondering, she really was named after Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a popular show when we got her. Besides, Sarah Michelle Gellar, who played Buffy in the series, is blonde and Jewish, like my dog, and I wanted to provide my three daughters with a strong female role model). My Buffy is very affectionate and enthusiastically bestows upon all my friends extremely warm welcomes whenever they come visit. She has skills too. She is an accomplished Frisbee canine. At the ripe old age of eight, her spectacular catches could still make a highlight reel on Sportscenter. And, as I am writing this, she is using her Frisbee as a pillow. That’s true commitment.

As good a friend as Buffy is, at times, she can be a burden. Unlike my grown children, I cannot leave Buffy alone for the weekend. And no, it’s not because I am afraid she’ll throw a big, loud party. Friends have asked me to consider putting her in a kennel, but if you knew Buffy, you couldn’t imprison her like that either. On occasion, I have left her with my parents, but they don’t always have the patience for her. Other times, when one of my kids is home, I can set off for the weekend with a clear conscience.

So, it happened one Thursday when on was on J-Date, the Jewish dating site, that I had a conversation with a woman named Anna who lived in Manhattan. She seemed very nice and the conversation went well. No doubt there was a little flirting and we ended our chat on good terms with the intention of chatting again.

The follow up chat came soon - the day after. Based on the tenor of the conversation, Anna was clearly anxious to meet me, even overanxious, in retrospect. Although she was at work, she apparently had plenty of time to chat with me. It makes me wonder how much American productivity is lost because people are pursuing romance at their desks on their computers. That, however, is not my problem. Before too long, Anna proposed that I visit her in Manhattan. And, here is Part I of just how overanxious Anna was. She wanted me to come down that very evening. How desperate was she for male companionship? Even though she wasn’t a great beauty, she was nice looking. Why couldn’t she find someone in New York City? I mean, how many millions of men live there? On the other hand, what would prevent me from taking the 2 ½ hour trip? In a word - Buffy.

I considered the possibility that I was using Buffy as an excuse not to go. After all, parents commonly use their kids as excuses to get out of all kinds of sticky situations. I could have asked my parents if they could watch Buffy for the weekend, but I didn’t. I might have felt that Anna was just too anxious to invite me to stay at her place after only two conversations with me. On the other hand, what was wrong with a woman wanting so much to meet me? That level of enthusiasm usually meant one thing. Sex. And what’s wrong with sex?

I explained to Anna that I would love to visit her but was saddled with a golden retriever for the weekend. I figured that would end the issue but Anna suggested a solution. Bring Buffy! Bring Buffy? Was she kidding me? This woman really wanted me to bring my dog on a date? Apparently. She also had a dog, Bongo, and thought it would be nice for all four of us. In case you’re counting, that’s twelve legs altogether.

I weighed Anna’s proposal. On the one hand, I had never taken Buffy away from home (except once) unless it was to my parents’ house. More importantly, Buffy is scared of other dogs, even little ones. There is a story, or rather a theory, with that too. When Buffy was still very young, we left her for about a week with a veterinarian who was a parent at my children’s school. The vet lived on a farm of sorts, so we thought Buffy would be safe and secure. Well, ever since that time on the farm, Buffy has been afraid of dogs. My theory? Buffy was molested by the veterinarian’s dog, Joe. I know. Paw and Order – Special Victims’ Unit. Since Buffy isn’t talking, which is often the case with rape victims, I don’t absolutely know for sure. I told Anna about Buffy’s fear of dogs, but Anna reassured me that Bongo was a very social, easygoing small dog. She added that she lived on the Upper West Side near Riverside Park which has a great dog park. And, if we got there before 9:00 a.m., we could let the dogs off the leash. To make it even nicer, she said we could even take the dogs for a stroll in Central Park. It sounded like a dog-friendly invitation with the potential for sex for me, so I thought about it some more and said – why not? It might even be fun. I accepted.

Since the date was going to involve dogs, I didn’t think it was necessary to make complicated clothing decisions. I would wear nice, clean clothes. I already had everything I needed for Buffy and just had to make arrangements for someone to check in on Monk, my cat, or rather, the cat my son left me when he no longer could care for him. In case you are wondering, Buffy and Monk get along together quite well. So, I called my Dad who agreed to stop in just to make sure Monk was fine. In short order, I packed the car with my clothes and Buffy’s food and accessories, and off we went.

The trip down to Manhattan was uneventful. Buffy and I stopped at the Ramapo rest area for well, a rest stop. It wasn’t long before we made our way across the George Washington Bridge onto the West Side Highway and into the City. Buffy was in New York! As might be expected, it took a while to find a parking spot near Anna’s apartment building, but find one I did. If you are familiar with New York, then you know that most streets and avenues are one-way. For car enthusiasts, it means that, like me that night, you might be parking on the left side of the street. Why is that important? Well, I own a two-door car, so when parking on the left side of the street, the passenger door opens onto the street side of the car rather than the sidewalk. And, as it goes, that’s the door I have to use to get Buffy out of the back seat. So, as cars are whizzing by, I opened the door and fastened the leash to the collar of a dog who was very anxious to get out for some fresh air (I know, fresh air?) And how anxious was Buffy to indulge in all the news smells of the Big Apple? Well, as soon as she could, she bolted out of the car right into traffic. Whoa, Buffy! I yanked her to safety in the nick of time. Buffy in New York was getting off to a great start.
Anna lived in the West 70’s and I gave her a call as soon as Buffy settled down a bit. Although I had Anna’s address, I had to park around the corner and felt lucky that I found a parking space as close as I did. Anna met us at the car and immediately pointed out that my parking space was only good until 7 a.m. The three of us hopped into the car and searched for another spot. After about 20 minutes, voila! At least the additional time gave me a chance to chat with Anna. She seemed very sweet.

Unfamiliar with all the sights, sounds and smells of the city, Buffy was pulling me all over the place, so Anna offered to help with my bag and dog supplies. Polite too! I suspected Buffy needed to pee but she apparently was too distracted to consider the needs of her bladder. We entered Anna’s building and entered the elevator. Buffy’s first elevator ride! I worried that Buffy would pee in the elevator but she maintained bladder control. Good dog!

I was most worried about the next part in Buffy’s New York City adventure – meeting Bongo. Anna reassured me that Bongo was very friendly and would welcome Buffy with open paws. In fact, Bongo was exuberant and chased Buffy around Anna’s apartment. Fortunately, the dogs settled down within a few minutes giving Anna and I a chance to get to know one another. It also gave me a good chance to finally get a look at her. She was pleasant looking if not a real beauty. I was thinking a couple of glasses of wine would improve the picture considerably.
And wine was served! After we straightened out the confusion between the dog food (Bongo was eating from Buffy’s bowl), Anna and I sat down to a lovely dinner. She didn’t cook it herself, but had it delivered. Delivery is big in Manhattan. You can get anything you want from just about anywhere.

After dinner, Anna and I took our dogs for a walk. We went to Central Park where Buffy enjoyed sniffing around the fallen leaves in the nippy winter air. She relieved herself and I was relieved. Who knew you could stroll around Central Park at night?

Anna, Bongo, Buffy and I made our way back to the apartment. Anna brought out some more wine which we enjoyed on her sofa. The dogs were quiet, the lights were dim and soon enough, Anna became amorous. I responded positively.

It wasn’t long before Anna led me to her bedroom. Even though it was already clear to me that my relationship with Anna wasn’t going to last long, she was nice but not intriguing in any way, pleasant –looking but not pretty, I still had no problem accepting her invitation. Hey, I’m a guy and guys are dogs, right? And it was, in part, anyway, a dog event.

Whether she just hadn’t been with a man in a while, or whether she simply was sexually enthusiastic, Anna’s approach to lovemaking was energetic. So there I am, in bed with Anna, thinking that my trip to New York was turning out okay. I don’t think either of us had much hope for the future of our relationship, but at least we were doing our best to have a good time with each other.

As a person who enjoys metaphors and looks for themes in life, I flipped Anna over and made love to her doggy-style. It made sense to me at the time. And in keeping with the spirit of the evening, I thought it would be nice to pay Anna a compliment during coitus. I commented that she had a nice ass. After all, that’s what I was faced with. To be honest, it wasn’t the best ass I have ever seen, but it was within the parameters of nice asses as asses go. I thought that would be the end of it, but Anna’s response surprised me.

I know, at this point I should be ready for just about anything, especially if you have read my story about why I think women should come with warning labels. Notwithstanding my prior experience with sexual surprises, I still wasn’t ready for the words which flowed effortlessly from Anna’s mouth. She said: “It should look good considering all the plastic surgery I had after my bariatric procedure.”

Bariatric procedure? What the hell was that? As smart as I think I am, dear readers, I just didn’t know. Clueless! My etymological instincts kicked in as I racked my brain for a definition. The only thing that came to mind was a barium enema. We were doing it doggy-style, after all. But why would she be talking about enemas during sex? And, as much as I knew that a barium enema is not the same as your friendly neighborhood Fleet enema, it still conjured up images of feces flooding out her ass. What kind of dirty talk was that? (For any woman reading this, the purpose of talking dirty in bed is to turn a guy on, not off.) So, with thoughts of shit invading my mind, I quickly lost interest in any more sex. I know. It was a doggy weekend and dogs love smelling shit. Perhaps, but that still doesn’t make me a canine, even if I am a dog.

Somehow, I recovered sufficiently to finish the act and we soon went to sleep. At least I did. I actually had a good reason to get some shut-eye, above and beyond recovering from my psychic trauma. Anna wanted to wake up early so that we could take the dogs to Riverside Park before 9 a.m. so that we could let our dogs run free.

Saturday morning came and off we went to the park, dogs in tow. We arrived to discover lots of dogs running around having fun. I let Buffy off the leash, threw her Frisbee and Buffy was transformed. She was finally having fun in the Big Apple. Fortunately, Bongo was not a Frisbee dog, so Buffy didn’t have to worry about some Upper West Side pooch stealing her favorite toy.

After about an hour and a half, it was time to return home, and return home I did. I manufactured some lame excuse about why I had to get back to Albany (probably using my kids as an excuse) and after a polite goodbye and a sincere thank you, I loaded Buffy into the car and returned to Albany. As soon as I got in, I googled bariatric procedures. Anna had her stomach stapled. At some point, she must have been a very big girl. At least she wasn’t a dog.

And, although things didn’t work out for me and Anna, Buffy ended up having one great date.

(Buffy visits the Guggenheim)