• 8 May 2009 •
Noman has taken a role in "This Is Who I Am" as Peter Leone, staring Frank Stallone.

Harley doesn't believe in leash laws. So I respect his decision and never force him to wear one. Except in Manhattan . Because people in Manhattan always get angry and say things, even if they lack the courage to say something to your face, they say it from a safe distance after they walk away. They feel it's their responsibility to reprimand you and the dog for not being on a leash. That's all I will say about that, for now. Harley is well behaved, doesn't run off, never crosses the street -until I let him know that it's "OK". Harley loves to be free and explore and enjoy all the fascinating scents of the park. He's a dog. That's what dogs do. That's what makes him happy. Well that, and me coming home.

He is also a very social animal. He hates when he greets you and you don't say "hello" to him. Well hate is to strong a word...I think a better word is "depressed". He becomes depressed. It's me that hates when people don't say hello. Anyway, I don't let him spend too much time with people...I don't want him to pick up any bad habits. Kids are fine. It's just people that I don't want him spending time with. He's also great with other dogs. He ALWAYS says hello to other dogs. He whimpers at me until I know it's OK to approach the other dog. I never let him just run up to any other dog, especially in The Bronx. Dogs reflect, represent, acquire, become and absorb who "their Person" is. To put it in the language of my beloved, oppressive, if not very limiting, native tongue of The Bronx: "They're just as miserable - as the pricks who own them". And in some cases - the miserable Bitches...

Wow. This chick is hot. I thought to myself. Our dogs were greeting each other. Sniffing each other’s butts. Trying to figure each other out. She was beautiful. She was in her mid, maybe late thirties. Though her clothing suggested she was the same age as Brittany Spears. Tank top, no bra. The tank top stopped, perfectly, exactly, strategically, directly above her gorgeous belly button, which of course was decorated with a very noticeable silver belly ring. Her breasts were small and absolutely delicious to look at. She also had on a sexy pair of hip hugging, low-rise sweat pants. She let me know she had a perfect ass as she bent down/over to remove the leash from her tiny fluffy white dog.

A black thong tortures me, as it teasingly rises out and over her hip hugging sweat pants. This NEVER happens. At least not at 11:30 at night - in the park - in The Bronx!!

"Nice shoes," she says as she slowly looks up at me. "Great ass" I thought, but "Thank You" is what came out. "You always walk your dog in a suit," she says in a tough Bronx accent. "No". I say wanting to bite her ass. "I just got back from somewhere..." "Oh Fuck!" She screams out. "Your dog is trying to hump my dog." "Harley!" I snap. Harley stops mounting the small fluffy white dog. "Your dogs a fag," she states. " Cher is a boy too and your dog is...trying to..Oh man your dog's Gay".

"Your dogs name is Cher ?" I ask hiding a smirk.

She responds with "Yeah. You have a problem with that".

I smile and lie to her, "No. I wasn't sure what you said".

"Yeah his name is Cher ," she says admiring her dog.

I stayed silent a few seconds not quite sure where this was going. It's not like I can sniff her butt and "know what she's about".

"Your dog still HAS his balls?" The lady with the delicious breast said to me.

"Yeah," I casually answer.

"I cut Cher 's balls right off when he was a puppy". She yapped and yapped some more. "It's not good for males to have them. He's five now. It causes problems for them and shit. My Vet, she said it gives them Cancer when they get older. She said it's the best thing I could do for Cher ...to cut his balls off. It also controls the dog. Makes them obedient. Keeps them from running away. Got into a big fight with my husband over this. He didn't want to cut his balls off."

"Your husband?" I interject.

" No, not his. I wish. I'm talking about the dogs balls not my husbands." She said and then continued. "But I kept insisting. Cher has to lose his balls. You know, like it's easier to control him. He'll live longer. My husband didn't care. So one day when my Husband was out of town on a business trip. He's a cop. Like cops go on business trips. Anyway, I took Cher to my Vet and she snipped Cher 's balls off. It was the best thing for him. My husband was so pissed when he got back from his trip."

I wasn't shocked at what she was saying. Just about every woman I know who has a male dog has had his balls cut off for the same "reasons" that this gorgeous, psycho dingbat with the great ass has. Only, she waited for her husband to go out of town!!?? Harley was born with balls so he gets to keep them. It's not for me to decide. It's not a dog’s problem if "people" need control. People are irresponsible, so let the animals suffer. Oh Yeah, that makes sense.

"You had Cher ’s balls cut off" I said trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of how that sounded. "Yeah. Shit yeah" she continued with more passion. "My stupid husband didn't want it done. It's for the good of the dog I kept telling him. He got so mad at me when Cher 's balls came off. At least the dog is not running AROUND I tell him. Cher is so much more tame and friendly and easier to control. The motherfucker went out and bought a Rottweiller...I never let that dog in the house. Big ugly scary dog. Could have eaten Cher with one bite".

Harley, bored with Cher has moved on. Although Cher can't take the hint and is following Harley very closely. Every now and then Cher 's nose bumps and sniffs Harleys butt. I want to follow Harley’s lead and walk away. But I had a difficult day. She was entertaining. And I just wanted to look at this "woman" for a little while longer. She was becoming emotional and very animated as she spoke and I was...Well, I was hoping that something might pop out from that tiny tank top. You got a problem with that.

"That big stupid dog." She barked on, "He named that thing Cujo. Asshole. So one night, when he was sleeping, I 'forgot' to close the gate in the back yard. He spent weeks looking for that big black beast. He had the NYPD out looking for that dog. He never liked Cher . Well, Cher never liked him either. He never walked her...

"You just said, He never walked her" I cut her off.

"Just wanted to see if you were listening" she said too quickly. And continued with "He never walked him. Always to tired. Or it's to late. Or he had a headache. Or get that fluffy white thing out of the bathroom when I shower or I will start using him as a sponge. He hated Cher ".

She shut up for a second.

Great ass and I watch Cher , in silence, as he licks Harley’s balls. I think: Cher misses his own balls. But I say "YOUR dog is gay."

She ignored me and continued with "What's your thing? Why haven't you cut your dogs balls off? It's not like they're yours."

I paused several seconds, deciding which way to go with this, before I answer. It's not like they're yours she said. Do I want to get into a debate with a woman who CAN NOT hear another point of view or the real reason/excuse why she cut her dogs balls off? I don't really care what she thinks or feels, no matter how great her ass is. I had a really bad day and I am in no mood for "opinions". I was simply enjoying watching her. She was not important to me, so why be angry with her? But what came out of my mouth was...

"Your Husband divorced you, right. You guys aren't together any more."

I can tell by her nipples that this was not the answer she expected. She paused to plan her attack. Then launched, "What the fuck do you know about me? What gives you the right to say anything!!? No. Yes. We are divorced. I left him. I...LEFT...HIM. What made you say we were divorced!!

I didn't answer.

"What? What made you say that?! " She screamed and flailed her arms at me.

"A hunch," I calmly answered.

"A hunch," The beautiful crazy woman screamed back. "A hunch? I did not give you permission to have hunches about me. I don't even know you. You think you know me? Having hunches about me? You have no idea about my life or how that evil monkey of a man treated me. The pain and misery he has put me through. The nights I sat up waiting for him. The nights he hit me. The nights he never came home."

I felt nothing for this beautiful , strange woman, with a perfect ass and delicious looking breasts, as she screamed at me and told me her problems. I thought: Sure is a lot of shit hidden underneath this very inviting cover. She felt the need to scream at me some more. Had she said nothing I would have went home with a perfect memory. A great ending to my very long day.

I didn't take it personally.

I let her scream so she did, "How dare you judge me. Looking at me like I'm some freak. Don't you dare judge me. I did not give you permission. I did not give you permission!! He was evil. You don't know my pain. You know nothing...Standing there in your expensive shoes and Italian suit!! What the fuck are you thinking wearing a suit to the park?!!"

I answered her calmly and precisely, void of any emotion.

"I just came back from a funeral. I buried my cousin today." She stood there in all her perfection, silent, staring at me with the stupidest look on her face.

"Come Harley," I said and walked away not looking back at this perfect, insecure, wounded, Bitch.

THE PARK IN THE BRONX

"I'm a smoker,” he says, "but the dog has a bad leg so I have to run with him" he pauses as he snorts his snot back into his runny nose. "Is your dog friendly?" He continues. "Very” I say as I reach down and pet his puppy German shepherd. "Oh yeah, I see he has a lazy hind paw". I say as the shepherd gives me a kiss. "Yes sir, you certainly are a handsome pup,” I add, kissing his dogs furry face. "I'm real careful" he lets me know. "Most dogs here in the Bronx are shit just like..." "People", I finish his sentence. He smiles agreeing with me. The pup runs off, chasing nothing in particular, he runs just for the pure joy of running. Harley, my dog runs after the pup. "He'll be fine,” I say. "Dogs don't know they're handicapped. He has no idea that he has to overcome anything, that's why he'll be fine".

"I run a mile. I run around the track four times" he says. "It's a quarter mile track, so four laps makes a mile". He let me know incase I couldn't do the math. "I run a mile in the morning and a mile at night so his foot gets stronger. He was the last one out...with the litter. All his other brothers and sisters came out before him. He was born a day later. He was in his mom an extra day...I think that's why his foot is like that." He pauses as we lovingly watch our dogs play and sniff each other.

I sneak a peak at this man, as he stares, with so much love, at his dog. He blurts out "I HAVE to run with him. He's just the best thing." Then, just keeps on talking.

"I work Construction... Luckily I'm working here in the Bronx , right on Tremont Avenue so it's close to home. So I bring him with me. I tie him up to a pole on the site. I think he likes it". He talks. His eyes fixed on his pup. Never making eye contact with me for more than a second.

"What's the pups name” I say. "Buddy" he answers, not looking at me.

"I bring him home..." he continues. "...I have to leave him by himself for a few hours". "My Dads in the hospital, so I go and spend time with my father. Things are a little...rough now". He paused to watch his pup some more, maybe even hide his emotion from me.

Men from the Bronx don't show sensitivity or love especially not to another man and even more so NOT to one they just met - in the PARK. We are not allowed to be intimate.

He then continued. "My neighbor said that Buddy cried for about an hour then he stopped. I guess that's pretty good for an eleven week old pup". I nod in agreement. Then, I started using words like sweet and adorable to describe his dog. "Yeah my girlfriend thinks so too". He says, as he wipes his nose with his sleeve. "My girlfriend says the same things. He's a dog, she says. He doesn't know that he has a handicap". I guess he had to tell me about his girlfriend. He had to let me know he had a girlfriend.

Men in the Bronx can't talk to one another with out, somehow, letting the other know they are not gay. "Harley", I scream out with a tough bravado. "Play nice or I'll take you home, he's only a pup". I tried to be as - BRONX - as I could, letting this man know that I'm not gay and it's "cool". Resenting the fact that I had to play this game with him just so we, or should I say he, can have a conversation. Thinking that this simple man is threatened by me, a complete stranger. Who just happens to be walking his dog as well. He extends his hand to me. "Hi my name is Mike,” he says. "Norman" I say. I guess I convinced him. I'm a MAN just like him. "I'm having a problem with Buddy" he confides in me as we watch our dogs rolling in the snow together. "He's not eating his food. So I started cooking...this guy on the construction site says his wife cooks chicken livers for their dog and mixes it in with the dog food. The dry kind. And their dog eats it. But Buddy, he picks out all the liver stuff, all the food I cooked, and doesn't eat his dry food." "Harley used to..." I tried to interject. But he didn't realize that he didn't care for my opinion. "It's the funniest thing to watch Buddy do that,” he says as the snot shines under his nose. He rambles on with "I even tried putting chicken broth in his food. He ate it for a couple of days but then he stopped. I guess I'm gonna have to try something else." He continued with his monologue as I watched our dogs play. Every know and then I would throw in a "yeah" or "sure" or "their just the best".

He had a lot to say about his work, his father, how Vets don't really know anything and how his dog is going to have all the strength back in it's paws and how much love he had for this little dog that just came into his life.

I listened.

I don't usually talk to people. So, I guess that makes me a...listener. I listen.

This man, who's name is Mike. Works construction and visits his father in the hospital every night. Is sharing with me - many personal things. I don't believe he is aware at how much he is telling me. I guess he needs to talk. All the time avoiding extended eye contact with me so I won't assume anything. This man shared with me, his feelings about work, his feelings about people, his loving sister, his love for his niece, his Love for his Father, his Love for his Dog and how happy he is to have this eleven week old bundle of love in his life. And how he is going to do anything and everything to make this dog stronger and healthier.

He paused his diatribe and snorted back more of the snot dripping from his nose. We watch the dogs as they chase each other. "He's gonna be just fine" Mike whispers under his breath and between snots. "Yeah" I snuck in. "He's gonna be just great". The puppy sits in the snow as Harley licks the shepherds’ ears. Mike stretches out his hand to me once more and says, "I'm sorry what's your name again?" "Norman" I say as we shake hands for the second time. "I'm Mike" he reminds me just incase I forgot. He continues with "I'm terrible with names. My Brother in law-I don't know how he does it- but he never forgets anyone’s name. Even if you met him for a second, he would remember. It's like a gift he has...remembering names." Snot spills over his lip and into his mouth. The puppy is lying down in the snow and Harley has moved on to pee on some trees.

"Buddy looks tired" Mike announces with out looking at me. "I'm gonna head home. Come on Buddy". The puppy lazily gets up and lovingly follows his master. "Take care,” I said. He didn't hear me, he couldn't hear me, and he was already running off with the pup.

Had we been woman, even a couple a Bronx girls, we would have exchanged phone numbers, had already scheduled a play date and what time we should walk our dogs-together- and THEN hugged and kissed goodbye.

I whistled for Harley to come, but the tree was more important. So I loyally followed my master and peed on the same tree. As I stood there, peeing, the snow falling, I thought about Snot nose Mike. I didn't really care to listen to him...I don't even know if I liked him. But that didn't matter...I think I have a soft spot for...well, for people who are not aware...aware that they need 'something'. His need to talk was greater than my need to leave. If only he could tell somebody all that "stuff" that's inside him. I was not losing anything. All I had to do was Listen. The truth is-Instinctively I knew this man, Mike, would go home feeling good, happy, better. It doesn't matter if he didn't know why. I just happened to be THERE for him. And besides Harley was having a good time playing with the puppy. Had Monologue Mike, not been so self absorbed and allowed me to say...anything. I would have said, "I love my dog too". I get happy when he is happy. Especially when he is running around playing and feeling good. Then I would have thanked him for letting Harley play with Buddy.

It seems that he and his dog are perfect for each other. Both have a handicap that neither is aware of. Although his handicap maybe more difficult to overcome. I pee and think...What would have happened if I was gay or just wanted to see his reaction and said, "My boyfriend would find your puppy so beautiful" or something like that. What a loss. Mike would have NEVER given himself a chance to talk and feel what he felt in the park with me. It's to bad, I thought.

This man has no idea he has shared love with me. He was intimate. It's to bad he wasn't aware of his feelings or the fact that he was opening up to somebody. I was listening. He opened up to another man a strange man, Me, and shared some of his life, his love for his father as well as his beautiful puppy -that he would die for. Perhaps on some level he knows. This tough construction worker with a runny nose, who lives in The Bronx, who's father is in the hospital - who made sure to tell me he had a girlfriend - who was jogging in the park to help make his puppy stronger...Sure had a lot of love in him. LOVE, that he shared with another man.

One day I'm sure he'll see it. I see it. So does Buddy. Maybe one day he may even be able to listen.