The last item's not unusual; we go to the park almost every day, but today was incredibly time-consuming. Why? Because Archy is madly, passionately, ardently and irredeemably in love with every living creature on this planet -- and some inanimate objects as well.
If you haven't met the Archinator, he's a Brussells Griffon. And before you ask, it's that dog from As Good as It Gets with Jack Nicholson. No, not Men in Black, that was a pug. Yes, I know. He looks exactly like that dog, I know. But it's different breed, I swear on my Kennel Club membership.
Usually Archy's lifestyle choice (omniamory, I think it should probably be termed), is not that big of a problem. Whenever we're walking and we see a carbon-based life-form, we simply stop so he can briefly say, 'Hello, I'm Archy, nice to meet you, I wuv you,' and then we move on.
But today I made the ginormous mistake of hitting the park around 3 pm. It must have been the peroxide poisoning from the hairdressers, but I forgot that school gets out around 3 pm.
What follows is a short playlet demonstrating what happens when we hit the park after school:
RANDOM 12-YEAR-OLD MALE: Aw, wicked man, it's that dog out Men in Black, innit?
ME (gormlessly): Yeah. [Thinking: no, that was a pug, dammit!]
ARCHY: Hello. I wuv you THIS much!
Five minutes of excited cuddling is followed by awkward, lingering retreat on part of ARCH and I. We walk about a yard and a half.
RANDOM 3-YEAR-OLD FEMALE: Doggy!
ME: That's right, it's a doggy.
RANDOM MUM: Aw, isn't he sweet?
ARCHY: Allow me, please, to place my tongue on your hand! As a token of my wuv! For you!
R.3Y.O.F: AAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!
ME: Come, Archy, come on boy.
RANDOM MUM: There's nothing to be afraid of darling.
ME: I'm SO sorry [Thinking: if you're child is phobic about dogs, why can't you warn me first, insufferable maternal unit?]
R.3Y.O.F. calms down and tries to pet my other dog FIFI by striking her violently about the head and neck with a tiny, tiny fist. We prise ourselves away and make it all of ten feet before encountering a HORDE OF MIXED SEX 16-YEAR-OLDS.
HORDE MEMBER 1 breaks off in mid-snog of HORDE MEMBER 2 as we approach, ARCHY in the fore, straining to get to the new people.
HORDE MEMBER 1: Sick! Hey, miss, that dog is sick, right!
ME (alarmed): What? Why? What did he do?
HM1: Nuffing, he's well cool, innit? He's sick!
ME (feeling 103 years old): Oh, yeah. Thanks. [Thinking: is that what kids say now? It's dumber than 'bad']
HM2 (noticing FIFI): OAOW, look at the titchy one! Can I pet him?
ME: Ummmmm, sure. She's a girl, actually.
ARCHY is going completely mental trying to get the attention away from FIFI and back to himself. I have to chase FIFI and hold her in my hands before she will be submit to petting; she is seething gently yet steadily, much like Mt. St. Helens must have in the days before the big blow.
Eventually, we tear ourselves away and make it another five feet....before we see a large family with a big, old labrador. The love theme from Zefferelli's Romeo and Juliet kicks in as ARCHY swoops across the grass to her side.
ARCHY: Ah, mon amour, at last you have come!
OLD LAB: Sorry, have we met?
ARCHY: Only in my dreams, cherie. Only in my dreams. Say, is your father a garbageman?
OLD LAB: No, why?
ARCHY: Oh, I just thought he stole the stink from the garbage cans and placed it in your fur.
OLD LAB: Why, you sweet talker!
FIFI: YAPYAPYAPYAPYAPYAPYAPYAPYAPYAPYAPYAYAP!
ME: Sorrysorrysorry. No, she doesn't bite. Yes, she's always been like this...
ARCHY: Oh, look over there -- it's a Cavalier! Oh, wait, it's a boy. We-ell, I s'pose just this once... Hey! You over there! I wuv you! [He vanishes into the middle distance]
Fin
Archy's firm belief that he is personally responsible for spreading the love is quite endearing, but I'll think twice before we hit the park at rush hour again. I asked FiFi, and she completely agrees with me on this one.
Yap.
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