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1. Betty Page, on your fridge. (kudos to gnarl)

2. An object or behavior that for no good reason (a good reason perhaps being honesty or its ilk ) attracts the fairer sex ( like pooh to honey ) to any random shmuck who otherwise might as well be completely invisible. Or smelly. You know what I mean.

Its not a phrase I just dreamt up, I’m sure you realize. It simply has a certain flair, a catchy sound that to me outweighs its un-PC tone.

Note: If Kirsten ( the woman I come home to ) thought for a moment that I would use the word "chick" with any perspective not detached or archaelogical, she’d promptly deliver unto me a brutal asskicking. But that’s just one more reason why I love her, yes?

My focus here, however, is really not on the chick magnet concept in general. I hope to be enlightened on that subject by other noders. My focus here is on puppies, the most remarkable chick magnet you will ever see.

Puppies as chick magnet is one of those fantastic oddities/basic truths of human nature that I discovered quite by accident. No really, I swear. Really. Okay, I guess I wouldn’t believe me either.

I finally got a dog of my own ( something I have always desired ) just a couple years ago. We drove to the country - some folks who raised dogs and goats - to get her. An eight-week old chocolate labrador retriever. Calamity, Cate. She was from a litter of eleven, and sitting in the grass with puppies climbing up and down me, I couldn’t choose. Out of my mouth popped, "just give me the fattest one" – I still am not sure why. Of course she was cute, with those jewell blue eyes and velvet fur. She slept in my lap, just a little ball, the whole hour driving home.

The first time Cate and I went to the park the next day ( it was May, and gorgeous out ) I was quite simply floored. Now I am a tall, rough-looking kind of chap, who dresses badly and is fairly suspicious-looking. Strangers in all types of situations generally just give me space; I can’t complain. But on this particular day the cosmic chick-magnet energy meter must have been far into the red. I was mobbed. As you already suspect, I did handle it all rather poorly, but that’s neither here nor there.

The funny thing is, to this day, Cate has more friends than I do. People come over to the house just to take her to the park, on hikes, to play frisbee. I go to parties and am greeted by old friends with "You didn’t bring your dog?", not "It's nice to see you." Around the neighborhood they all know her name, do they know mine?

Ah well, it’s all well worth it to me.

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