Pax to the Rescue WC 298

Pax to the Rescue
WC 299

I met this attractive woman at the Huntington Dog Show. Long flaxen hair, figure to die for…

We talked about dogs.

Alice had a Corgi…two Corgis. I’m partial to my Golden Retriever, Pax, and dogs of that ilk. I kept my thoughts to myself and “oohed” and “ahhed” over the pictures of Auggie and Froggie.

Afterward, we went to Olive Garden, her favorite place. I’m not a fan of chain restaurants, but I kept that to myself.

“Would you like to go on a real date?” I asked as we nibbled breadsticks.

She played with her fettuccine.

“Yes, Johnny,” she said finally. “I'd love for you to meet my mother.”

I choked on my breadstick.

“Well, I…” I sipped my water as I recovered.

Meeting one's mother on a first date? Hmmm?

We set a date for the next evening at Olive Garden, also her mother's favorite.

“Thank you for a lovely meal. I must get home to Auggie and Froggie,” she said, slid across the bench seat, and walked toward the exit.

I gathered that meant I was paying.


The short version of the “real date”:

Her mother, Helen, (a rather heavy-set woman with strong opinions—and cologne) had two corgis, too: Puss and Boots. We spent a lot of time talking about our dogs.

All evening she was sizing me up, hinting at holy matrimony while her daughter giggled incessantly.

Alice was looking less and less attractive.

“I’ll be right back,” I said in my Arnold Schwarzenegger voice, “Need to powder my nose.”

Instead, I headed for the front door. Oh, I know it was rude--sort of--to leave Alice footing the bill, but I had to escape.

An evening with Pax seemed much more inviting and less threatening.

And it was.