demitasse, part deux

burdened with an armload of stuff last night, i treated myself to an elevator ride, fearing a crash of glass otherwise. while waiting, a very tan, big buff gay man approached the bay. with mandatory calf and biceps tattoos, he was holding a tiny white poof of a thing. (which i suspect is a smaller hairier version of what he might be in the winter, although i'm guessing he has a tanning/waxing membership someplace, lol.) it was in his arms, lolling about, apparently unable to support its own head. it looked the oxy dudes i see on the "t".

"uh, is your dog ok?"
"yeah, i just took him out for a carry."
"i'm sorry, what?"
"i carry him when he needs to go."
"well, his paws are wonderfully clean."

we stepped into the car and he gently juggled the puppet, under and over. it expressed zero distress at being held stomach exposed, head hanging.

"he lets me do whatever i want. he loves it."
"i'm glad you two have such a good understanding."

even my cat doesn't remain that forever relaxed, knowing danger may lurk invisibly in the immediate future.

ew.

some of these neighbors? i really *don't* wanna go inside their condos, ya know?