On charm

—Yesterday Yr Fthfl Srvnt renewed contact with some of the pretty ladies I befriended thanks to Killian.
But this time no Killian. I had to pull the plug a couple weeks ago. Cancer hit him like a ton-a’-bricks.
Spunkiest Irish-Setter I ever had, then suddenly BAM!
“Are you sure you want me to visit?” I asked my lady friends.
They’re the ones who boarded Killian. Frequently they daycared Killian.
I’d be relying on my own charm; my four-legged charmer was no longer alive.
“Sure!” they told me.
My childhood convinced me “NO PRETTY LADY WILL ASSOCIATE WITH YOU!” So I have doubts.
“We want you to keep coming,” the cute co-owner exclaimed.
“I do like coming here,” I told her.
My 19-year-old friend — I’m pretty sure she’s 20 by now – walked in and struck a pose.
WOW; I’m not used to this. She’s being cute.
“What's all this about?” I asked, as I struck the same pose back.
“Bob, if she trusts you that much, you should take advantage.”
“No way José! I’m not gonna ruin a fabulous friendship by becoming a lecherous geezer.”
She’s gonna encounter creeps and weirdos galore, and I won’t be one of them.
I know, she’s young and finding her way, but I’m not gonna put her on the defensive.
Just shooting the breeze is too much fun, and every once in a while I get the pose.
“Uh-oh…..,” I think; “five-foot two-inches, 125 pounds, but she’s gonna kick my butt.”
And there she is, smiling at me again — “NO PRETTY GIRL WILL SMILE AT YOU!”
Mostly I was talking to the co-owner. I used the word “dude,” and she laughed uncontrollably.
The same thing happened long ago with my lifeguard-friend at Canandaigua’s YMCA swimming pool. “LA-DEE-DAH,” I’d said. She laughed.
“Yes *****, ‘La-Dee-Dah’ is the real me talking.” And so is “dude.”
What do ladies want most? A male friend they can laugh with; not some lecherous creep they hafta parry.
In other words “I really like hanging out with this guy.”
I’ve had it happen.
Like always, I had to shut us off. (I expect the ladies to wanna stop talking with me, but that’s not what happens.)
We’d yammered almost a half-hour.
“NO PRETTY LADY WILL TALK TO YOU,” yet the one who cuts us off has to be me.
“Groceries await,” I said.
“BEHAVE!” they shouted.
“Yes mother,” I said, and they all laughed.
That’s the key = make ‘em laugh.

• “Killian” (as in Killian Irish-red) was my seventh Irish-Setter, an extremely lively dog. A “rescue Irish-Setter” is usually an Irish-Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. abusive or a puppy-mill. Or perhaps its owner died. (Killian was a divorce victim.) By getting a rescue-dog I avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. —Killian was fine. He was my fifth rescue.