Yeah she is a little rough, but the male dog doesn't seem to care after being rejected by the other gals.

They say love is blind.

Yup

The stupid smelly one is the female, and i agree she is the one i would want.

I think we all have that moment sometimes.

Yup or more milkbones.

Interesting choice for names.

I was going for Raymond Chandler atmosphere. He's kinda dark and handsome and she's kinda Ditzy looking, ... although most blondes I know are pretty smart, the fact that she smells, alone, is kinda telling. So,
.
.
I was walking down St.James Street, toward thirtieth, about to go into "The Infirmary", you know, dark, smoky, a place you could go if you wanted poison, but didn't want to drink it with folks you know, ... ?
That kinda place.
I saw her standing in the middle of the sidewalk. She wasn't dressed to the Nines, but in that "shabby-chic" that's so popular with the dames I date.
She was two sheets to the wind, already. Hangin' on to the pole that supported the awning to the bar. I caught a whiff of her cologne, "Schuylkill River-Fish-kill", it was one that made me want to know her better. I caught her eye, and the end of her sentence, "that I know wanna buy me a treat. But..." She paused, as if letting her brain catch up with what she'd said.
I sidled up to her, offering a "Hey, Cutie." She just looked straight ahead, ignoring me.
"... I like Milk-Bones," she continued. "A lot ... ."
"Right," I continued, "C'mon in and I'll buy you a drink straight from the porcelain."
.
Hell, after the check from that last dog-fight, I could afford to get her the good stuff, if she'd wag her tail at me. I was wondering if the fur would fly when I tried to get my paws on her.
You can tell a lot about a dame by the kind of collar she wears, and the type of dog-tags.
I wondered if she'd had her shots, -- Cause she wasn't wearing tags -- or even a collar.
... But then, What the Hell.
.
Neither was I.

Hee hee maybe thats how it went.

Have you Seen the Maltese Falcon? That's what I was trying to channel, but ended up with the closing from "The Big Sleep" ... Hope you liked it.

Yup

She followed me, steadier on her feet than I had thought, ... or maybe just better coordinated. Without stumbling she threaded her way between the tables, We found one further back between two tables with lights, and plopped herself down onto the bench seat, instead of in one of the chairs.. Our table was deeper in the shadows, just the way I wanted it.

I sat on the bench next to her, in case she was drunk enough that she needed a shoulder to lean on, .. or incase she was feeling Friendly.

Suddenly she started talking like she was sober and interesting; "Do you swim? I like to spend time at the beach. I spend a lot of time there on the weekends. Do you swim? I love to swim, I love it, and everything at the beach; the water, the animals,

the fish... I even like the way they smell!"
I had to think for a minute, why had I thought she was drunk? Oh, yeah, talking to herself.
Listen, Babe; you might have had some drinks already, if so, you probably don't want any more, but if you want, I'll buy you anything the bar serves.

Her tail started thumping about a mile a minute, and she smiled at me for the first time, "Oh, that's awfully sweet of you,

Mr. ... Mr...? Gee, Mr. I don't even know your name. I suppose I should tell you mine, first... It's Dolly.

I smiled my biggest smile, and showed her they weren't dentures. "Malloy, Name's Malloy.

Well, please to meet, Mr. Malloy.

Oh, no, Molly. Malloy is my first name.

Well, That's not one I've heard before, what do you do for a living, Malloy?

I'm a bloodhound for hire.

"Ha!" She responded, "You don't fool me, you're not a blood hound. You're one of those Tirvur, ... er, Terver, oh -- a Belgian Sheep dog!

Well, I guessed she was half right, I did shepherd the bad guys into jail, ... for a price.

Yeah, Dolly, I guess that's a fine way to put it.

The waiter had come by and was cleaning the table next to us, waiting for a break in our chat to take the order.

Malloy? Whattcha wanna drink?

Hey, Eukie, I'll have an Algonquin Bar Brawl,...

"Dang! How much is she paying you, Malloy?" I wanted to deck him for that crack; he knows I don't work like that. But she came to my rescue, before it got nasty.
"I'd like a Clockwork Tangerine, please."

"Wow, I dunno where you got her, but she's a keeper, Mal." He grabbed his bar rag and headed off to get the drinks.

"Well, Dolly, I think he likes you." Eukie usually just takes the order, no comments.

"I don't know that the waiter likes you, why does he call you Mal, if your name is Malloy?

"Well, it worked like this. I'm not a Belgian Shepherd, but my mother was one. She was from the city of Malines, and she named all the runts after TV heroes, but I was the biggest of the litter-mates, and she named me after her City, Malines. Ever since I was a pup, everyone called me Mal. When I started working here, I got a job with a dick who ran a peeper service for richer clientelle who needed more privacy than just some regular guy cutting out on his girl who just had a litter of 8 pups or kits. He was a Irish Setter, and everyone figured that if I was working for him, that Mal was short for Malloy, so it kinda stuck. You don't mind, do you?"

"Oh, no. I think it's kinda cute.... Cute name for a cute guy, ..." She smiled like it was a joke. Maybe it was, but still; I felt my hackles go up. I was hoping for more intelligent conversation than this, but I'd put up with the hand I was delt and play it straight, if it came to that.