Augusten

Droopy ears, a button nose and a tail, which wags to the sounds of Ethel Mermen, this character isn’t another gay date for me; it’s my ideal future puppy.

Augusten (named after author, Augusten Burroughs) resides in the figments of my imagination, alongside all my imaginary friends of yesteryear. The idea of having a puppy didn’t quite find it’s home in imagination land, until one spectacularly chilly April afternoon.

While out in the East Village, I decided to visit my favorite coffee shop, The Bean. It’s a most wonderful cozy place, on the corner of Ninth and First Ave. Regardless of the unseasonably cold temperature; I bought a Mona Lisa (a cousin to the Frappuccino, an ice blended beverage with vanilla flavoring). I sat outside on one of the inviting benches and people watched.

While watching, hipsters, old people with rent control and clueless tourists, I started to shiver. However, I continued to sit on the bench, since I was thoroughly enjoying the free entertainment. As I peered to my right, a very attractive silver fox (attractive older guy), strolled Ninth Street with an adorable, but gigantic, black lab.

“Geez, big dog= big apartment,” said I, while sipping into the final stretch of my blended drink. The black lab walked toward me. I didn’t pay him any attention, since I was listening to Tori Amos and drifting into never land. The dog parked himself in front of me. His frustrated owner tried tugging his leash, but the dog wouldn’t budge.

“Sorry about that, he’s never done that before,” said Mr. Silver Fox. I played with the dog a bit, but really I was interested in the owner. My thoughts were “this dog is a yenta.” He’s trying to match two lonely New York gays. Finally, after a few minutes with the dog and Silver Fox, they left. No romantic connections, but the playing with the puppy kept me thinking.

” A dog, such a novel idea. We could go play at the dog park at Madison Square Park, take long walks in the East Village and watch great John Hughes films from the 80s at night, said I.

It was simply magical. Especially living by myself all the way uptown, a dog would be a great companion. I could also join doggy owner groups. It was also a fantastic way to meet guys. The gays do love their dogs.

As the idea became more endearing, I called my cousin. “You with a dog. I can’t see you picking up poop,” said she with a giggle. Poop, that’s right, they do poop, said I to myself.

Bringing Augusten, home didn’t seem so wonderful. I realized at this point in my life, I didn’t spend much time at home and need a bigger apartment.

Hence, my puppy will become a reality years down the line. In the meantime, my (0wn) droopy ears and I will enjoy treats, while listening to super duper gay Broadway show tunes.

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2 Comments

  1. Love this!

    Reply

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