A message from Blondie

As Gary was talking, I took a moment to look around his apartment and see what was beyond the filth. I noticed that his walls were decorated with photos of him in his tux being interviewed on various talk shows. Sheba was always at his side looking right at the camera. He saw me looking at the collection of memories,  hung way too high on the wall and crooked.

“Oh those are of me on the talk show circuit,” He proudly announced. “Once I got on one, they all wanted me,” he smiled then bent over to kiss me. I was totally taken off-guard, backing away from him as he moved closer to me.His actions startled Blondie who actually growled and showed her teeth. I took the opportunity to slide down under his arm until I was completely off the couch. Sitting on the floor, I saw a piece of toilet paper stuck to my shoe. That did it. That was totally gross.

 “I think she’s sending us a message here,” I said, standing up in front of him as he collapsed face first into the cushions.

“I like you, I really like you, Gary,” I said.

“But…” he added.

“But, I don’t know, I’m just not ready to get into a relationship. You’re absolutely adorable. So kind to my little dog. And so interesting. I’ve never met anyone quite like you. But this just isn’t going to work out between us.” I grabbed my purse and headed toward the door.

“Wait, you didn’t even eat your steak.”

“That’s okay. I’m not hungry anymore. I’ll see you later,” Blondie and I made a quick exit, both throwing up once outside.

Bandaids

Blondie hopped up next to me on the couch, shaking me out of the confused daze that came over me in light of the mess inside Gary's apartment. Sheba stayed off the furniture, curling up on her doggie bed in front of a fake fire place. In no time, Sheba was snoring away, loudly.

“She’s tired. She plays hard with Blondie.” Gary said as he pet Blondie lovingly. This one simple act made me feel much more comfortable.

“You have such a kind and gentle nature. It’s hard to imagine you robbing people,” I said as I leaned back on the couch. I felt something hard underneath me. I reached under the cushions and found an old can of dog food that had gotten lodged in there. I discreetly pulled it out while Gary’s attention was focused on opening a bottle of wine. I hoped it was Sheba who hid it there, and not her master. I placed it carefully next to the couch, wiping my hand on the carpet.

“My Mom died when I was only thirteen and I never knew my dad. I had to do something to survive,” he explained as he joined us on the couch, kissing the top of my dog’s head while handing me a glass of red wine. “I learned to live on the streets quickly. As I got older, I fancied myself a modern day Robin Hood only I robbed from the rich and gave to myself, the poor,” he looked up as he poured the wine. “I found that the best time to rob people was when they were throwing a party.”

“You mean you crashed parties and then stole from the host?”

“That’s exactly what I did,” he said grinning. “The bigger the party the better cuz I could get lost in the crowd. They usually hid the goods in their bathroom. Bandaid cans seemed to be the most popular hiding spot.”

“You’re kidding,” I said and sat back, knocking some loose papers off the back of the couch. They went flying behind us. I felt mortified but he didn't even seem to notice.

“I dressed up in my tux and went to the party then ducked out to the master bedroom, took the loot and slipped through a window.”

The cat burglar's apartment

Gary's one bedroom apartment matched the outside of his drab and poorly looked after building. Located on the second floor, I followed him up the stairs as he got out his keys. He opened the door and stood back, motioning me to enter with a big smile on his face.

"After you," he said. I was shocked speechless at the total disaster; newspapers and magazines strewn all over the floor, an empty pizza box in the corner, dirty dishes and crusty old cans of dog food on the kitchen counter, several pairs tennis shoes in the living room. A dirty, fowl, musty smell lingered in the air that made me recoil.

Quickly, he pushed aside papers from his couch making room for us to sit. I imagined him spread out on that couch, watching tv or taking a nap using the garbage as his blanket. I thought it was so weird. I immediately plastered a counterfeit smile on my face, something I had learned to depend on to escaped the reality of certain situations. I thought about this cat burglar and how he had to be so well organized in order to burglarize million dollar homes in Beverly Hills and get away with the loot. Here he was living in complete filth. Why would he risk his life like that to live like this? 

At home with a cat burgular

When I finally reached Gary in the parking lot he said “let me make this up to you. I have some steaks defrosted at home and can put them on the BBQ  Besides, you've never seen my place. And we can bring the dogs inside with us.”

I may have been disappointed but I was still hungry. So I followed him this time to an ugly stucco beige colored two-story apartment building in the West Valley. It was the worst looking building on the busy street lined with tall palm trees. The building’s gardens were practically dead and the paint was peeling. I still had high hopes that his unit would be well-kept, clean and cozy. Maybe it would be filled with the jewels he stole as a cat burglar!

Sushi

After eating at just about every steak house in the San Fernando Valley, I finally convinced Gary to let me pick a restaurant for a change. I suggested sushi and he reluctantly agreed. As dusk was setting with a brilliant red, pink and blue sunset, we got in our cars and he followed me to a little hole in the wall on Ventura Boulevard that I knew served the freshest tuna in town.

It was a tiny place with a lively sushi bar that catered to a local crowd of loyal diners. Unlike Gary’s steakhouses, this restaurant was brightly lit with rock n’ roll music blaring in the background. Behind the chefs, the menu hung on the wall painted on wooden slates in black letters and corresponding red Japanese lettering. Fresh fish was kept in a glass display case on top of the wooden bar where Sushi Chefs worked their magic for the guests. There were a few individual tables but most patrons preferred to sit at the bar. 

Steak

One evening after a romp at the park with the girls, Gary asked me to dinner. I did not yet know that he was strictly a meat and potatoes man. I quickly learned that Gary frequented those steak houses that were so popular in the 1980s. 

I had not entered a dimly lit steak house for years, opting instead for restaurants that served more healthy choices. Gary's idea of a good food centered around a raw steak with salad dripping in fattening blue cheese dressing and huge baked potatoes heaped in real butter. These establishments were always filled with neighborhood drunks that made me feel extremely uncomfortable by standing too close, breathing their awful smelling breath in my face. Gary was in his element. I thought what the heck, opposites attract, right?

Dangerous park games

Blondie was so cleaver that she actually created some of her own games at the dog park. Her new friendship with Sheba seemed to be giving her more confidence. One thing the girls liked to do was chase dogs that were chasing balls. The bigger and meaner the dog the better. And if Blondie could sneak up on a big nasty canine just as they snatched the ball and get some of their tail fur in her mouth, score! Sheba egged her new friend on, encouraging her to find the baddest dog in the park to hustle. I didn’t like it at all. Gary thought it was amusing.

Another game she seemed to love was to sauntered up to other dogs, big dogs, and growled at them then ran as fast as she could behind Sheba when they turned around. This one made me especially nervous because it could get end up with serious consequences. Maybe her new friendship wasn't that good for her after-all. Sheba seemed to bring out the "bad-ass" in my Blondie. I had never seen this side of her before. So I concentrated on keeping Blondie moving and away from Sheba to make sure my dog wouldn’t end up as supper for some big pit bull. What I didn't realize was the wisdom of Blondie's actions. I didn't think back then that Sheba's owner, Gary, might  bring out the "bad-ass" in me!