Women look at me like I'm a dog. In fact, Annie
reminds me all the time. "Harry, you're a dog," she
says. And depending on it's context, that statement
can have very different meanings. For instance, if
she says it with a smile on her face, right after
we've made love, it's a statement of affection and
warm approval. If she whispers it sharply in my ear
after she's caught me looking down some low-cut
cocktail dress at a dinner party, it has a very
different meaning. Quite often, she'll follow up
with, "Pick your eyeballs up off the floor!"
Ah, yes... "Pick your eyeballs up off the floor!"
That's not original Annie. She got that from me, from
a story I like to tell about an old-maid judge who
used to be fond of me when I was a young attorney,
just starting out in the Public Defender's Office. I
guess she, too, had it figured out that I was a dog.
I was representing an Iranian guy who had an Italian
girlfriend. This was probably twenty-five years ago.
The girlfriend had him arrested and dragged into
Criminal Court because he had smacked her around a
bit. After he had spent the night in jail and she had
spent it alone in bed, she thought better of it. So
she covered the bruise under her eye with makeup and
got all dolled up for court in order to tell the judge
she wanted to drop the charges.
When the case was called, I asked that she be
permitted to enter the well of the courtroom to
explain to the Honorable Shirley A. Goldberg how it
was that she had mistakenly brought these charges.
She left her sweater on the bench where she had been
seated and came and stood next to me. Up until this
point, I hadn't noticed what Walt Disney had
apparently taken note of in Annette Funicello. This
babe, as young women of Italian descent often are, was
hung like a Douglas Fir. She was wearing a tight
black dress with a neckline down to her navel, and it
was pushing her assets upward and outward for all to
see.
We were involved in a brief whispered exchange,
before I would let her speak, when all of a sudden,
the judge angrily ordered, "Mr. Kresge, approach the
bench!"
"What now?" I wondered. I really couldn't imagine
what this was about. I went up to the bench with the
Assistant District Attorney.
When we got there, she had only one thing to tell me,
"Pick your eyeballs up off the floor!"
This morning I had to bring Annie's mother into
Manhattan with me on my way to work. She's been baby
sitting for Annie's friend, Lucy, who lives in
Chinatown, a few blocks from my office. I've done
this a several times before, and, believe me, it's
always a surreal situation. It's more than an
hour-long trip and her mother speaks not one word of
English.
As we were riding in a crowded subway car, my eyes
started to wander. Eventually, they came to rest on
this pretty girl who was seated near me. After
awhile, I looked at the old lady. She didn't look too
happy. In fact, she was giving me her best "you dog"
scowl. Christ, what could she expect? It's official.
I'm a dog by judicial decree. How many other dogs
can say that?
-Virgil Hervey
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