Deuce Bigelow

Deuce Hefner, in robe and 1974 Pl'boy..."Well hello, young lady. You look very lovely tonight and- say...are you over 18 and want to get into modelling?" Sorry ladies. He's a eunuch, but a helluva cuddler.

Tonight was another gym procrastinator while I scampered home to inspect my charge. The roommate was home and homeworkin' but informed me they went on an "Epic" walk and made an impromptu visit to Redwright before heading home. We discussed a potential dog-park visit on the weekend during the daylight hours, both of us still holding on to our reservations about it not being our dog and what would happen if "something" were to happen... (It was here that he gave me another tip that if he was out on a walk? And it was a female dog-walker? He'd stop and chat. If it they were male? He'd scamper across the street or turn around. He's a scoundrel.)

In lieu of a gym visit and to tucker him out I went on a 2 mile jaunt myself around the parkway. My original intent was a dog-park visit-swear- but it's been dipping down in the single-digits and frankly? My hairy step-brother was having a better time of it than I was. I considered taking him on a run, but chickened out. Sue.

And when we got home, it was treats and cuddlin to the Robert Altman classic "McCabe and Mrs. Miller". (A movie where prostitution is a theme. Hence the jerry-rigged pimp outfit on the Deuce) The film, I have nothing to say about since we both started falling asleep about an hour in. Better than NyQuil, that Altman. To all my insomniatic friends? You're welcome.

My dinner with Deuce're...

Pictured: The grundler keeps the backyard varmint-free. He also piddled in the area where I planted asparagus...which, for some reason, I find ironic and hilarious.

Fact the first: In the winter time I bring my gym bag with me to work so that it doesn't freeze in my car. (Anyone dressing at the gym after their gear has spent 8 hours in a subzero car knows how much trying to put on frozen clothing sucks) The logic is that I can go from work to the gym and BOOM done. Workout accomplished.

Fact the second: I suck at this and invariably wind up going home. In the sweeter months it's fine- I usually can just run early in the a.m. or after work on a beautiful day. Or both. I'm easy. But after a long-ass day I tend to drift toward finding excuses to go straight home. (Not to be too self-loathing, the excuses are easier when I have a gig or event to attend. Or karate. Natch. Or...)

I HAVE A DEUCE-EXCUSE! Yes, I found myself barrelling home and bypassing the gymnasium in order to attend his Grundlyness. Fortunately, my roommate has taken on the task of being the daytime sitter- I fielded a remarkable number of texts from him over lunch letting me know that he has time to come home between work and school and take him for a walk. (His alterior motive was admitted in his last text, whereas he said that maybe he'll meet another single female dog-walker out in the world...and I'm fine with that. Go get'em!)

It's pretty amazing how low-key this guy is. AL told me that he's low-maintenance and he wasn't kidding. Treats and snoozin'? Snoozin' and treats...and he's good. No chewing shoes. No piddlin/poopin in the house when left alone. No barkin'. The only concession is that he knows "out" and where "out" is. (At his home at the lofts, "out" time means crossing through the building to the common dog area. At the casa, he's very aware that the back door is the out door. And he'll sit and look frassy at the door, tail a-wagging...and he just came in 2 minutes previously)

Still, he loves the backyard. Plenty of smells, plenty of sticks, and plenty of squirrels. If I wasn't such a chicken shit (of other dogs, not him) I'd meander down to the St. Anthony dog park. Except...see the aforementioned laziness. AND the fact that it was MOVIE NIGHT!

And today's episode ends on the couch with Smashburger black bean burger (soooo good), shared sweet potato fries (wow. wow wow wow.) and "Conan the Barbarian". (1981. Deuce really loved the score.) Also...we've discovered the bed. Just...just see below.

Black bean burger- not a reconstituted patty, mind- and sweet tater fries. Notice half the cup is missing? That was NOT me. You're welcome, Grundlepuss.

I'm in ur bedz! Sleepin' on the diagonal! (Taken in pitch black. Surprise!)

I will NO be moved...oh, wait...did you say O-U-T? If I must...but I can't...the bed...she is too warm.

Waitaminnit...you said this movie was in 3D? You sleep on a bed of LIES, sir!

Squirrels? Not on my watch...

Oh...hello Doggie.

Hey. Hey! This rope ain't gonna tug itself!

A conversation from back in September:

"You need a dog"

"What?"

"You need an old jazz dog"

"I don't need a dog"

"Dude. You have a yard"

"That I don't want filled with dogshit"

"Whatever. You need a dog"

Sighs...

Meet "Deuce". He isn't mine. He belongs to a jazz musician. However, while said musician is doing musical things in NYC this week I will be cataloging our time together for lack of any other blogworthy material. (I've begun hunker-down mode for the winter, and if I bore your teets off with karate/work-out kerfluffles I fear that my 2 readers would bail) This may or may not include some fanTAStic pictures...he very much likes to wear hats. So:

Deuce-bag was dropped off with instructions. He's been fed. Acclimated to the backyard. And snuffled my bed to claim his spot. However, I was abandoned around 11pm when my roommate came home and he had a new hand to pet him. Then I found out he's staked a claim on the loveseat in the TV room. Which means my previously imagined scenario of he and I being BFF's for the next 4 nights...watching "Sex in the City" and eating tacos? Nope.

He does like sweet potato fries. And ice cream. HEP HEP HEP HEPPPP!!!