RE: “Cutie-Pie”

—Yesterday (Saturday, October 3rd) Yr Fthfl Srvnt decided to cross the main highway next to his supermarket, to visit the small shopping plaza across the street which contained the pet supply I used when I had Killian.
They all loved Killian. He’d charge through the auto-door, then bark at all-and-sundry, to let ‘em know he arrived.
“I hear Killian!” from out back.
And suddenly here comes pretty ********, otherwise known to me as “Cutie-Pie,” the cutest employee in the store; arms stretched skyward to give Killian a gigantic hug.
“Killian!” she’d shriek.
Killian ran to her to slam into her legs. Then he’d start nuzzling her: “PET ME!”
This visit would be different — I hadn’t been there in over a month. The idea was to tell ******** et al that Killian was gone.
******** doesn’t work there every day — I wasn’t sure she’d be there. There also is another girl I wanted to inform, but she’s not as cute as ********. Plus she smokes — NO WAY could I ever get cozy with a girl who smokes.
I don’t think ******** smokes, but she might — I sure hope not.
I walked toward the back, then back toward the front-door. There she was, manning a cash-register; so I got in line, dogless of course.
She had to leave her cash-register to do something out in the store.
When she returned, our eyes met across the distance: the same pretty eyes that always flattened me every time she looked at me.
“How’s my boy?” she cooed.
“Gone,” I said.
She couldn’t hear me, since we both were wearing masks, so she moved closer.
“Gone,” I repeated.
She still couldn’t hear me, so she moved closer yet.
“We lost him,” I said. “Neatest Irish-Setter I ever had = absolutely fabulous.”
Her eyes turned down.
“Sad news indeed,” she said.
“Yer burning me up with those eyes again!” (And of course her eyes were all I could see.)
“Ya gonna get another?” she asked.
“I’ll never get a repeat Killian,” I said; “he was extraordinary. Plus I don’t know if I should get another Irish-Setter at age-76.”
“Ya don’t look it,” she shrieked.
“Oh come on ********. I may not act 76, but I sure look it. I hardly can walk, and my balance is terrible. How in the world I ever befriended you I have no idea!
Killian was part of it, maybe even the main part. He wasn’t afraid of pretty girls, so I shouldn’t be either.
Ergo, we became friends.
A year-or-two ago you woulda scared me off; no way in a million years can I talk to pretty ********.
But Killian would drag me toward you.
I had prior experience with other pretty girls, but you were over-the-top.”
Her eyes flashed; we were striking sparks = I think I was making her feel really good.
And I wasn’t hitting on her = trying to get cozy.
Per COVID-19 safety precautions, I bopped her in the elbow, to let her know I really enjoyed seeing her again.
She bopped me back, then grabbed my arm. I’m not used to this. A gorgeous cutie-pie grabbing my arm?
“I hope we meet again sometime, hopefully with another dog,” I said.
“It sure is good seeing you again,” she said.
“NO PRETTY GIRL WILL TALK TO YOU!” Versus the cutest girl in the store is talking to ME.
“And please tell that other girl,” I said.
“She's on vacation,” ******** said.

• “Killian,” a “rescue Irish-Setter,” was my most recent dog. He made age-11, and 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. (Yet another dog lost to canine cancer — five outta seven so far.)
• Any physical contact between me and a pretty girl is mind-blowing to someone with my history.