Ray

XLVI

IN desperation, I got a little dog named Elizabeth, spotted, three-quarters bird dog, abandoned by some person and running around the parking lot of the apartment where my stepson Tommy lives. You know how dogs are faithful. But she chewed everything. She chewed the shoes, the Oriental rugs, and the windowsills, plus leaving diarrhea all over the house. But her eyes were deep, hopeful, and oozy with affection. Thing is, her existence broke up Westy and me almost. Elizabeth ate a couple of pairs of Westy’s sexiest sandals.

Born to chew, apparently.

The feet of Westy are so beautiful.

I finally wanted to get rid of the dog.

The bare feet and the toes in the golden high heels will bring a man on when he’s entering his lady. You look at those and hear your woman moaning with pleasure and there’s something so deeply elegant to the erotic that you’ve got to look into Penthouse after you’ve finished making love to be sure it really happened.

So I took the little dog out and kissed her goodbye.