Does He Like Me — Or My Dog?

It’s a dog-park crush, but on who?

Which blonde does Dog Park Dude like — me, or Cora? (I can’t use a winter pic because I’m covered head to toe these days and you’d only see my eyeballs)

I take my dog Cora to the dog park so she can play, frolic, and overall run around like a headless chicken. She’s a spark of joy and a sassy character all rolled into a cute furry format. Her adorkable expressions and her ‘happy feet’ (a little tap dance she does when she’s excited) woo the hearts of the dog park humans.

But one human has shown particular interest in my lil furry Fred Astaire.

This particular human is a rugged, handsome, and tall one. Like, Colossus-level tall. He’d have to bend down to use my head as a headrest.

He fell in love with Cora immediately and became her official ball thrower, an arrangement she adores. As anyone who follows dog park etiquette knows, it’s an esteemed and coveted position.

After she ‘chases’ the ball — because she’s a diva who refuses to retrieve — she’ll sit halfway across the park with the ball. She’ll proudly wag her tail and overall look like she’s the Queen of Sheba for capturing said ball.

Then she’ll give Paul Bunyan her come hither look.

He digs it. Hook, line, and stinker he’ll head right over to her.

Sucker.

Big Foot will walk across the park to Cora and she’ll roll over like a prostitute on payday. I’m not jealous at all that she gets all the belly rubs. Well, I don’t think I am. Ok, maybe a little.

Sasquatch loves Cora.

Over the coming weeks, he brought her an array of delectable doggy treats. First, a new squeaky ball. That’s her favorite and he won her heart with that one. Then a smoked bone, I’m assuming so she could think of him later at home. He’s working his magic on her — and she’s eating it up like it was free tacos.

Later he brought chocolates. Ooh la la, something for me this time!

The plot thickens.

While Cora and his dog, Tyson, are playing, Mike and I talk. Yes, the 6'4 (I’m 5'6 — and a half, for reference) gigantor has a name. I figured I should use Andre The Giant’s real name at some point. Mike and I have been chatting now for weeks, and he’s really sweet and we make each other laugh.

There was a twinkle forming, I think.

To quote Beauty and the Beast, “Perhaps there’s something there that wasn’t there before”.

This is her after the dog park, sad that Mike is gone.

But I couldn’t be sure. Did he like me? Or was this some sort of elaborate plot to continue his escapades with Cora?

I tried being coy (ok fine, I’m a pussy and was hiding behind my dog) and saying we should exchange numbers. You know, so we can set up doggy play dates. Goliath said he didn’t have his phone on him. I had mine, but he didn’t bite.

Hmmph. Maybe the only blonde he’s into is Cora.

A few days later, I mustered the single cell of courage I had and again suggested exchanging numbers. But received the same response, that he didn’t have his phone.

Sigh, I can take a hint. Fuckballs.

I’ll just continue ogling him in the dog park while he plays with his one true love, my beast.

Then, out of nowhere, a couple of days later Gogmagog brings his phone number written down on a piece of paper. It was very old-schooley, and cute.

I rushed home and entered him into my phone, Mike…err…I don’t know Mike’s last name. I’ll just use his dog's name to fill in the surname. Yeah, that’ll work.

So, now I have ‘Mike Tyson’ in my phone. That’s pretty McAwesome.

But, does he like me — or does he just want a direct line to Cora?

Over the coming days, we start texting back and forth. I think he likes me. Or at least me too. I still haven’t gotten any animal carcass gifts or rubber toys like Cora got though. As we text I find out more about him, details like that he has a Swedish background. That explains the height, also my giant analogy probably should’ve been Thor.

Texting turns into me suggesting we go to see a movie. I thought I’d have to ask him three times again, but he said yes on the first shot. Sweet — I’m in, and no Cora.

The God of Thunder did talk about Cora a lot during our ‘date’ (is is a date?) though. Maybe he’s just making conversation.

Or maybe he’s a furry.

As we drive home and then part ways after the film du jour, I get a hearty hug goodbye. Hmmph…Cora gets belly rubs. He didn’t even rub behind my ear or give me a pat on the bum. Cora gets pats on the bum.

This could still be an elaborate plot to get to my dog.

---

The next day in the dog park, at the end of the romp we find ourselves alone. And he mustered more courage than I have and out of nowhere he kissed me. I was impressed. Our dogs were not. Cora is puzzled; she’s not used to men kissing me. Tyson immediately turns into Collie Cockblock and jumps between us.

I might have to bring some bacon in my pocket to distract Collie Cockblock next time.

Cora can suck it though, because I think I won.

That or this is one helluva ornate plan to get my dog. In which case, Cora — we might have to share him.

This is her ‘Oh hi Mike’ position

One movie turns into a second, this time with dinner. Dinner — that’s a date right? It goes well, we talk endlessly and this time there’s slightly less Cora chatter. Are André the Giant and I officially ‘dating’ now? I’ve been out of the game for so long that I no longer know what protocols are.

There’s a Disney-esque post-dog-park spark for sure.

Although, perhaps it’s more Disney After Dark. After a long, long time as ‘accidentally celibate’, my lady bits are tingling. Who knows, maybe we’ll do more than kissing one day and I’ll have to bring my lady bits out of early retirement to climb Jack’s beanstalk.

---

Eventually, I did ask The BFG if he liked me or my dog. It was phrased as a joke, because of course it was. Galigantus did confirm, he likes me — and that Cora is just an awesome furry bonus.

If you’re wondering why I had any suspicions to begin with, it’s because I’ve been feeling a little unlovable these days. After all, who wants to date someone with a ‘meh’ career who makes little money, and has a life-altering health problem? Even if that condition means they’re bendy and can wear their ears as ankle accessories.

Well, Mike does.

Mike even likes my job. He reads my articles now and thinks I’m hilarious — which is firkin fantastic because humor tends to get in the way of cute boys liking me. But he actually reads my shiznit, which makes him one of the only people in my life to do so. I adore that and hope it isn’t awkward in the future when I write about him.

Like I’m awkwardly doing now.

So eerhm — Hi, Mike.

---

Do you want to support me but those $5+ per month subscriptions add up? Fair.

I’d absolutely love your support at any level that’s comfortable for you…

$1 per month (would picking the lowest option make you cheap? Nope, I’d love you)

$2 per month (equal love here)

$3 per month (ditto)

$4 per month (you rebel)

$5 per month (full price because I’d be dumb not to include it)

Don’t have any money? Don’t worry, me neither, and I still love you.