Huggy-poo

“You know I’m no good at this huggy-poo stuff.”
I said that to ******, a friend at Honeoye Falls Goodwill. ****** is always thrilled when I show up with Killian, my new rescue Irish Setter.
I took Killian to a nearby park, and had an errand in Honeoye Falls.
“Nothing to give you this time, unfortunately. All I have is my dog.” I let Killian out of my car after a torrent of noisy barking.
Here goes. “I promised myself I would at least try.”
Only one arm so far — next time we try both.
Fear of sexual harassment charges, perception of being deduced a creepy old geezer.
It’s my history: graduate of the Hilda Q. Walton School of Sexual Relations. No female would ever wanna be hugged by me.
Hilda was my Sunday-School Superintendent, and my neighbor during childhood. My parents, heavily into Bible-beating like Hilda, agreed I was disgusting. My father was mad I couldn’t worship him as worthy of the right hand of Jesus.
“Oh Hughes, will you get over it!” shouts **** ********, who I years ago worked with at the Mighty Mezz. “Hilda is dead-and-gone.”
14,000 rpm in her grave. Harness her and my parents and they could power the entirety of south FL.
Ya don’t just “get over it.” Marked for life from an early age.
What would my deceased wife think? A little jealous probably, but also relieved I was learning Faire Hilda was full-of-it.

• The “Mighty Mezz” is the Canandaigua Daily-Messenger newspaper, from where I retired over 12 years ago.