He was such a badass. Or so he liked to portray. He had intricate tribal tattoos inked up his forearm and there were a few in other places that while they did see the light of day, it was usually when he was in bed with a woman. A motorcycle was his choice of transportation and he tended to live nights of clubbing and smoking way too many Marlboros.
Yeah, he was a true bad boy.
Unless he was around Roscoe. Then he became the sweetest guy in the world. Roscoe the french bulldog. Gloria’s little baby. He wouldn’t get two steps in Gloria’s door before Roscoe was clambering to be held. And he always gave in.
Gave in to the fact that his arm would fall asleep as Roscoe curled up in his arms. Give in to the fact that he would probably have to stay this way the rest of the evening or Roscoe would whine. Give in to the fact that as tough of an exterior he tried to have, he loved the little dog more than he would ever let on. Though he had a feeling Gloria knew. She would get that look in her eye. The look that said, ‘Man, someday you are gonna be the best father ever’.
Those looks would always worry him, but he couldn’t resist that face on the dog.
So what if in fact he was a cream puff nice guy. No one but Roscoe needed to know that.
I couldnt’ resist an idea when I saw this picture. It is beyond beyond freaking cute.