Dog Dates

This is the first part of the conversation where he actually demonstrates that he has a pulse. Until this point he's just been a miserable, snarky, wholly unattractive man with a flat affect. The dudes with the Jameson's and the oxygen tank are having more fun than me and at least one of them is actively dying.

The dog was an adorable boxer. He shows me a picture on his phone. He talks about what a great companion she has been. What a personality (someone has to have one) and what loyalty. He's so animated and jubilant at this discussion that he waves down the bartender and orders us some appetizers. Nice to see has some passion about something but a little disappointing that it is his dog and not his job or some fascinating hobby or favorite past time. Hell, it could be a charity that he supports. Gushing about your dog is not unlike gushing about your children. Of course you love them. Tell me something I don't know.

We are still talking about the dog when the appetizers arrive. I am a little surprised that there is so much he has to say about the pooch but relieved to not have to carry the entire conversation myself, and especially relieved that we have not turned the conversation to the topic of my employment "situation."
Talk about a buzz kill. I can't imagine having to explain my current lack of meaningful work to a drone whose only redeeming quality to date appears to be his pet. He'd feel superior. I'd hate that.

I ask him if he has any other pets (I can't imagine that there is much more ground to cover with the boxer. It's not like he can go on gushing about the dog going to law school or anything). He looks at me like I'm nuts.

I must look baffled because he makes a snarky face and says he doesn't have the dog anymore.

So we were just taking for 40 minutes about his imaginary pet? Is this like Sigmund the Sea Monster?

He continues, with an attitude that suggests that I missed a critical part of the conversation (maybe when I was mesmerized by something more interesting like the beverage coaster) that the dog is dead.

Steve Martin is in my head saying "Well excuuuuuuuuuse meeee!"

"Oh, I didn't realize that from what you were saying," I say, fighting the urge to add "you asshole" to the end of the sentence.

Moving right along. While he stuffs another nacho into his mouth and chews with his jagged little teeth, I ask him how long ago the dog died and if he's ready to get another one.

He sucks a little bit of jalapeno from his teeth with his tongue and says, "Yes and no. I thought I was ready, but now that I've not had a dog for a few months, I think I kind of like the "no dog" lifestyle."

"I totally get that," I say. "I'd love to have a dog, but I am not home enough, nor are my kids, to give a dog the attention it would need. And I am not home reliably enough to maintain a regular walking/feeding/run in the yard schedule."

"Yeah, that's what I mean. You have a whole lot more freedom to do things sort of spontaneously when you don't have a dog."

"That's why I have a cat," I say. Carefully refraining from mentioning that I have more than one so as to not sound like the crazy cat lady. "They can take care of themselves for a few days." And then I joke "And I think they'd prefer that I not be there all the time!"

His face loses all tension. His affect returns to flat. All the animation is gone. He looks directly at me and says "I don't like cats at all."

Deal broken. Time to end the date.