Happy New Years!

So I'm 98 now! And still from Brooklyn!

My human's making chicken cutlets, and I know some scraps are gonna come my way. Imma eat 'em, then I'll prolly upchuck just a little, but what d'ya expect? I'm 98 and I'm from Brooklyn!

Hope everyone's New Year's is as good as this old dog's!

Getting Old Sucks

I was giving myself my afternoon cleaning yesterday when I suddenly felt a far away yet somehow also near voice calling my name... 

There was no one with me in the room so I assumed I'd heard someone outside and mistakenly assumed they were calling my name, but then it happened again. 

It seemed to be coming from above. I looked up. Nothing. Then I heard it again. 

I was about to start getting all religious and stuff (can you believe it? at ninety?) when I turned around and realized it was my owner calling me from the doorway.

Getting old sucks. Your hearing goes all funny and you think your owner sounds like God. 

Midgets

Hey peoples!

This summer is proving much harder than I thought in terms of access to computers and such.

I have a longer post planned for soon (lets hope the owners get drunk tonight and pass out) but in the meantime, I've been wondering: what's up with midgets?

We in the animal kingdom don't have them. I mean, there's little dogs. Tiny dogs even (some designed, which I find creepy frankly) but no midgets. So that's just a human thing? Or are there like, squirrel midgets? Why does it happen?

Enlighten this old dog if you can.

I'm from Brooklyn!

Weddings... What gives?

Summer's here, that magical time where an old girl's thoughts turn to chasing butterflies, naps in the sun, and my owners ditching me every other weekend to go to something called "weddings."

What gives?

You people realize you're the only species on the planet that makes such a big deal out of this, right?  I mean, you see a member of the opposite sex you like - or the same sex, if that's what wags your tail (Go New York!) - you give it a sniff, and if you like what you smell, mount away.

But between engagement rings and engagement parties and bridal showers and bachelor parties... how much coin do you need to blow?  And not for nothing, by the by, but that's money that could be spent on more important things like, oh, I don't know, chew toys or rawhide bones.  What are you trying to prove?

And, yeah, sure I miss my owners when they go away, and I worry that I'm not there to insure their safety.

Maybe I'm just an old gal from Brooklyn who don't know my tail from my paws, but jeezy capeezy, enough with all the weddings already!

The Accidental Tourist

Yo, 

It's been a while. Whadda you want from me? 

I saw this movie the other day called "The Accidental Tourist". Great movie. Starts off kinda sad cause this human couple loses their kid and they can't take it so they separate - if dogs had to separate every time we lose someone, we'd never be together. But then, get this, the guy meets another woman THROUGH HIS DOG!!!! 

Not only is this terribly exciting for canines and humans alike but the dog actually has a personality and there is a whole subplot involving the pooch's feelings and his misbehavior, which is of course a result of having lost his best buddy, the kid. I mean, I was already at the point of tears but to find a movie which clearly gets us so well... I am so moved. Thank you writers and director. I hope others take note. 

Now, my owners are gone (don't get me started) and they've left one of my favorite humans with me, which is great for many reasons one of them being he is not really used to dogs, so I get away with a lot of things. 

I haven't gotten to go to the movies in years, so I sneaked out to see THE TREE OF LIFE. 

Similar story line to THE ACCIDENTAL TOURIST but so disappointing! I mean, it was pretty to look at and all. Interesting themes ( I grew up with a tough dad too, so I get it) but the dogs... All they did was run around and be happy, which is pretty much all we ever get to do in live-action movies. We're either happy or we've eaten someone's shoe. 

I'm from Brooklyn!

Whoops...

Haven't been able to write in a while.  Of course, I don't really deserve the grief I'm getting for it.  I am, after all, a 91-year-old dog; it's pretty amazing I can write at all.

But I've been lying low the last few weeks, real low.  I read somewhere that the world was supposed to come to an end last Saturday, so I spent most of May underneath the sofa with my paws over my eyes.  Turns out, the human who said it was just joshing.  What gives?

What humans don't understand about dogs is that we trust you people.  When you tell us you're gonna take us for a walk, we assume you're gonna take us for a walk.  When you tell us we're gonna get a treat, we assume you're gonna give us a treat.  And when you tell us the world is gonna end, we assume the world is coming to an end.

Guess this is one of those tricks you like to play on us.  Like when you pretend to throw the ball, then hide it behind your back and laugh while we sniff all over the place looking for it.  Not.  Cool.

Anyways, I'm back out from under the sofa now and just in time.  Looks like we got a big match between Barcelona and Man U coming up this weekend.  Yeah, I like the game; who wouldn't love chasing a ball around an open field for an hour and a half?  But I'm more excited about the food my owners got prepared.  You can bet your dry schnoz I'm gonna get into some a that chorizo.


These are the kinds of days that make an old girl hope the world never ends...

Just a quick one today

Pretty interesting photo show on what my canine brothers and sisters are doing in the military.

Don't get me started on the politics. I'm from Brooklyn!

http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2011/05/12/world/middleeast/dog.html

Loneliness

My male owner left for a few days recently and I got to observe my female owner alone for a few days. That got me thinking: do animals and humans feel loneliness the same way?

I don't think so! 

She seemed to miss him a lot (and called him all the time and texted and so on) but she also seemed happy to be alone, to be spending time just by herself staring at the ceiling. Granted, I stare at the ceiling all the time (or at the floor, depending on my position) but I always, always prefer to do that in the company of a human. 

Let me put it this way: DOGS NEVER EVER WANT TO BE ALONE.

The minute the door shuts, we are already imagining you coming back. Sometimes you do, but it's only because you forgot your keys or something. Then you leave again and time stops. I don't care how many pretty birds are singing or who walks by outside, we just want you back. 

And that's despite the fact that I'm from Brooklyn i.e. tough. 

Sweet Jesus

I've been trying to update this blog for weeks now! I have so much to say, so much to share but no computer to do it with!

Miss Knowitall (female owner) decided to get a job outside of the house (why? why Lord, why?) which means she takes her computer with every day. That leaves only Mr. Techie (male owner) at home and he's always using his computer so it's basically impossible for me to even log in, let alone write a whole post. 

I do love the iPad but it's hard for a dog to use. Serious question: how do you hold it and type at the same time? I tried once when my owner was in the bathroom and this is what I got: F;lje;rjor4i           

Anyway, I've been feeling left out of everything lately. I know my owner is upset that she has to be away from me all day long too. Not only has she told me several times while crying all over my face but I've heard her discuss it with my other owner. I know she tries her best and pays the cleaning lady to take me out on walks, but seriously it all just makes me feel like I'm being abandoned again. 

Yeah, that's right. First my father abandoned us and then my mother went and died, God bless her. What am I supposed to do? Any feedback is greatly appreciated. 

Also, why won't humans allow dogs at work? What's up with that?

I'm from Brooklyn!

I've been getting into classic cars lately (no computer, so I look at books). This is a '62 Bel Air. Ain't she a beaut?

My owner, where'd she go?

Ever since she got a job, I hardly see her!  Thinking about putting fliers up around the neighborhood with her photo and maybe a reward.

I need a walk, a bath, and a faster internet connection.

I saw my male owner pick up some pancetta, though.  Seems like it could be a pretty delicious weekend.

College Basketball Blues

I'll admit: I've never been crazy about basketball.  For one thing, the ball's too big for my mouth.  But the other problems are the length of the shorts and a feeble Knicks franchise. Can we get new ownership already?

To me, pro basketball ends with Willis Reed and the 1973 World Champion Knickerbockers of a little city you may have heard of called New York.  In addition to his shorts, he was known as sort of a drooler, and I've always found that endearing in males, human or otherwise.

I haven't watched much of the college tourney this year, mostly because my owners don't even know it exists.  But every once in a while, they'll take off without me and let me get my hoops on.  

Personally, I've been pulling for the Butler Bulldogs (duh.  What, you thought I'd root for the Wildcats?)  and I'm hoping for a showdown with the Huskies of U Conn. Back in the swinging days of my youth, I once had a bulldog face off with a husky for my tender affections. While they snarled and growled at each other, a retriever swooped in and whisked me away; guess they both lost that one.

Then, I find out the tournament officials wouldn't let Blue, Butler's mascot, into the arena on account of, and I quote, "not enough space," for live mascots.  What the--?  You're telling me there's no room for Blue, a 70-pound bulldog, but there's ample space for this jackass?

Gee, college basketball, discriminate much?  

Well, fortunately, I just found out they're allowing Blue in for the Final Four game, even giving him his own seat on a chartered plane and accommodation at a 4-star hotel.  

http://www.tmz.com/2011/03/30/final-four-mascot-butler-bulldogs-blue-2-flying-chartered-airplane-southwest-4-star-hotel-intercontinental/

Hey, Blue!  If you need a date, there's an old gal in LA who's never been to Houston before!

The Dreaded Word: Vacation

One of the things I wanted to do in creating this blog, was to help humans understand canines better. I know we've been "man's best friend" for ages (and woman's) and a lot of you believe we give you unconditional love (and we do, sometimes). 

Still, a lot of you have settled into this really typical human pattern of "I'm the boss and I train you to fit my life". Fine. Dogs don't have weird egos that get in the way of deciding where I'm gonna pee today. Nevertheless, humans could use a little help when it comes to understanding us and that is what I write about here. Mostly. 

So about two weeks ago, this word VACATION started being thrown around the house. I ignore it for a bit because this is a favorite word of all humans, something they like to spend a lot of time thinking about and discussing even if it ends up not happening. Meanwhile, I'm thinking: vacation from what? You have a beautiful house; lots of food; nice walks. Wadda you gotta go anywhere else for? 

But go they did. Miss KnowItAll (my female owner) gives me lots of kisses and tells me she loves me before they leave, which is all well and good but HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF THEM when they are so far away????

Do you realize the amount of anxiety having your owners in some other location for a week produces? The scenarios you come up with? What if they never come back? What if they eat bad fish and you can't sniff it out for them before? What if they drown and I'm not around to rescue them? What if a raccoon infiltrates the kitchen? (http://www.fuckedinparkslope.com/home/attack-of-the-raccoons.html)

I couldn't live with that sort of guilt. 

So despite the fact that they usually ask their lovely friend Hannah to come stay with me, I always have a miserable time. It's not about her. I love that girl. Known her since she was like 12, I think. And she loves this old mutt and takes care of me but it's next to impossible to try to enjoy her company when I'm imagining them petting another dog somewhere in an exotic island. Do you know how good those dogs are at feigning homelessness?

Okay, so the obvious question is why don't they take me with, right?

To begin with, Hayes don't fly. I'm from Brooklyn. I got on one of those plane things once and once only. It almost gave me a heart attack and I don't want to ever repeat it again. I think my owners realized that when they saw the amount of hair I'd lost during the so-called flight.

So there's that. But I have been taken on vacation a few times by them. The trip is always the nicest. Singing in the car, listening to the news, frequent pit stops, a bit of prosciutto here and there... Not bad. But then when we get to the place it's back to hard for me. As I've outlined before we dogs have a lot of jobs and they only get multiplied when humans are "on vacation".

I mean one of the first times they took me with, do you know what I smelled right away? BEARS. I mean, bears! Who in their right mind wants to go camping where bears live? And who do you think had to warn them every time I smelled one? And then who do you think got yelled at for barking too much?

Vacation, smhacation. It's a lose lose for us dogs. 

Yoga

Downward Dog? FYI, humans.  We don't do that.  Except during special moments.  And for this old dog, it's been a long time.

Kubrick Woulda Loved This

Spy cams film polar bears up close

Loved seeing the cub's first time out. Also, so many of the early shots reminded me of Dave, the computer in 2001.

Also, I sure as hell hope none of these spy cams are filming me! Why do humans have a right to privacy but bears don't? Watch it. That bear could sue the BBC.

As you can see California is rubbing off on me.

Jury Duty

I got called in for jury duty.  Guess it wasn't as funny as I thought to fill out that phony absentee ballot for the 2003 California Governor "Total Recall" Election.  But what was I gonna do?  NOT vote to put Gary Coleman in charge of the world's 6th largest economy? Come on...

Pretty sure I can find my way out of this one, though.  Just pretend I'm a racist, right?  And also, I'm a 91-year-old dog.

Dog Days

The other night after our usual walk, I could smell some coyotes outside so when we got back home, I asked my girl owner to let me out on the balcony. She did and then she left me out there until 3 am!

I can't be sure that she did it on purpose because she's never done something like that before, but it's also not like her to just forget me out there. To be honest, I don't know which would hurt more...

It's not like I got cold or anything but us dogs, we always have a guilty conscience. It's hard for us to read humans so it's easier to assume we did something wrong because, let's face it, most of the time we did. But this time, I hadn't and I think she just went to sleep. 

Finally, when the boy owner got up to pee at 3 am I started screaming and I heard him talk to her and she came running out all sleepy and bewildered and talking gibberish and let me in. Old bones resting on my bed, finally. 

Finally, A Reality Show for Dogs

I got this friend, Shirley, a basset hound lives up on 7 with an owner who, let's just say, isn't shy with the table scraps.  Poor thing, Shirley's only in her 50s and she's already got the diabetes with a touch of the arthritis.

As much as I beg at the table and clean scraps off the floor with my tongue, my owners don't overfeed me.  Partially because they care.  Partially because a lot of the human food makes me hurl all over the floor.

Well, I'm browsing through the googlewebs the other night after my owners went to sleep (it's the only way I can get online; if my man owner caught me using his iPad, he'd poop himself.  And then blame it on me), and I find this reality TV show about overweight dogs: PROJECT PET SLIM DOWN.

http://www.projectpetslimdown.com/

Can I just tell you?  Loving.  This.  Show.  Sure, it makes me wonder what the hell kinda society we live in where we have a canine obesity problem, but at least SOMEone's addressing it.  Thanks, Purina!  (P.S. - I'm always willing to shill Purina, so, you know, if yous wanna toss an endorsement my way, get in touch!)

Pedigree - Part I

It seems the cat is out of the bag.  (Sidebar: I hate that expression.  Not because I have anything against cats.  I actually think cats are hilarious.  Especially the ones on the youtubes.  I just don't know what the cat was doing in the bag in the first place.  Seems cruel.  And I'm against animal abuse of any form.  Except squirrels.  They can get the plague for all I care.  Anyhoo...)

In my last post I revealed that I was, for a short time during my late puppy years, homeless.  I haven't been able to respond to all the emails asking me about this because (a) I'm a dog and my internet access is limited and (b) I'm 91 years old; these old paws can't type like they used to.

The short answer is, it's a long story, but here's the beginning part of it.

I was born into a litter of four mutts in an alley in Park Slope.  My mother herself was of mixed-breed, while my father was a purebred German Shepherd.

He was a strict disciplinarian, quick with a growl but short on patience with my siblings and me.  Seemed he was always "working" and "needed his space."

Despite his stern demeanor, my father was a brilliant comedian.  He could have been one of the biggest stars of Vaudeville, but for two things: (1) the rampant discrimination towards dogs and; (2) the fact that he couldn't talk.  Funny jokes, but zero delivery, right?

Through his diligence, though, he wound up writing for some of the great Borscht belt comedians of his day: Joey Adams, Mort Sahl, Shecky Greene...  Of course, no one knows about it - or pretends not to.  Last thing Buddy Hackett's going to admit is that most of his comedy was written by a German Shepherd.  But whaddya gonna do, right?

Well, what my father did was leave.  He resented my siblings and me, thought we were the ones keeping him from his dream, and left my mother to raise four pups on her own.

She did the best she could, my mother.  And my father?  I never saw him again.

The neighborhood became my surrogate, the restaurants, bars, alleyways, and people of Brooklyn my masters and best friends.  Scraps of food from the co-op.  Free concerts at the conservatory.  Yeah... we survived all right.

And even though I'm enjoying my Golden Years out here in sunny SoCal, those years on the streets of Park Slope are while I'll always be...

-Brooklyn Hayes.

Weekend Thoughts

Hey there blog followers, 

It's been harder than usual for me to get hold of a computer or mobile device lately. 

For one thing, one of my owners is always out with her laptop (grrr). The other one stays home more but has been on a breaking-stuff rampage. 

If you're wondering what that has to do with me, well, lets just say, it affects me in every way. 

Why, you ask? Because whenever something breaks and there's a dog around, we get blamed. 

Dad drops the pasta bowl while sneaking in a few bites? It was the dog. 

Mom drops the baking sheet right out of the oven? It was me. 

Baby decides to poop on the floor? I did it. 

Never mind that I also help clean all this crap up WITH MY VERY OWN TONGUE. 

Anyway, long story short, I'm staying away from his stuff until his fight with gravity is over. 

In the meantime though, I've been listening to radio. NPR more specifically. (Don't get started on congress taking away their funding. I could bite them.)

So this morning they were interviewing this woman Lucy Walker about her documentary WASTELAND, I think it was called. Premiered at Sundance, yadda, yadda. Now, I haven't seen the film yet (just couldn't bring myself to use my owners' credit card to purchase it) and so this might be unfair but what's with the love affair that well-to-do white people have with poverty?

I mean, you should hear this woman wax poetic about how amazing these people who live in a dumpsters in Brazil are. Life has put them in the garbage and they just triumph and move forward and are happy. Gimme a break! There is nothing, let me repeat, nothing poetic about that kind of poverty. Believe me, I know. Don't want to turn this blog into a "poor me" rant but I was homeless for a large part of my childhood; my family was dirt poor for a long time and went without eating for days on end. You endure because you have to; not because you have some kind of revelation about the animal spirit triumphing or how not having possessions frees your mind. 

Just to be clear, this isn't a criticism of the humans living in the dumpster. You do what you gotta do, right?

I'm from Brooklyn. 

Babies... Who needs 'em?

I don't get why humans are so interested in babies.  Any time one of these little bald freaks comes around, I either get pushed outside or poked in the eyeballs.  And then they all laugh and talk about how "cute" the baby is.  You try gettin' poked in the eyeballs, or having your tail tugged on, or taking a few fingers in the nostril.  See how "cute" you think it is then.

Look, I know I'm an old gal, but all I'm saying is, who needs 'em?  Do babies keep watch against intruders?  No.  Do they let you know when the doorbell rings?  Nope.  Do they bring you cool things like sticks and dead squirrels and stuff?  Never!  And I'll tell you something else: you never see a dog upchuck on a person's shoulder, neither.  We take our business outside, where it belongs.

Babies...

GASLAND

So I finally got around to seeing GASLAND while my owners were sleeping late this morning. 

WOW. 

Depressing. So tough to see that cat losing his hair and the horse all skeletal. And of course, the humans with all their headaches and illnesses. 

When is this bull going to stop? I mean, wasn't A CIVIL ACTION also about the effects of  trichloroethylene? And ERIN BROKOVICH? Same thing. (How about that paternity suit on Soderbergh, ha? Who woulda thunk it). 

I'm just saying these bastards are gonna keep doing this over and over unless we collectively unleash our teeth right on their behinds. Otherwise, they'll continue to poison people, buy lobbyists and move the operation somewhere else before you can say Halliburton. 

Damn. 

iPhone 4 at last!

So I spent the day at the beach today, which was pretty cool. I think we were somewhere in Malibu? I don't know. It kinda all looks the same to me out here and I didn't recognize anyone's smells...

But a couple of cool things happened. First of all, as soon as my owners dozed off (and their friends too; everyone in this group likes to sleep) I managed to get my paws on the coveted iPhone 4! I've been trying to get at it for a while without success and today I finally got the chance even if I got in trouble for it later. Thing is, my owners have been proud users of the iPhone since the first generation (boy owner even stood in line for hours the first day - what a geek) but I hadn't yet gotten to use the video camera on the 4, which is what I was really excited about. Boy, it did not disappoint.

I used the iPhone to film the second cool thing that happened today: seagulls!

What are these things? I've seen birds before but not big and bulky like these. They just kind of sit there and let you chase them around. I felt like I was 25 again!

Here. See for yourself:

I was pretty proud of my artistic skills. I mean, I know I'm no Kurosawa, but still. For an old broad from Brooklyn, right?

I was basking in the glory of that video and the seagull smell, when this happened:

There still kinda mad about it. Between the iPhone robbery and me staring at them this morning while they ate, they've screamed at me a lot today. Jeesh. You'd think I was a bad dog or something. If only they knew how much I crave new technology...

In Praise of Kibble

File this under "Things that happen in California that never happened in Brooklyn and I'm not sure I'll ever get used to."  That's a long heading, I know, but I'm a dog.  You should be impressed at what organizational skills I have.

One of my owners took me for a walk yesterday morning up in the hills and, bless his heart, I love him for it.  It's hard to describe to a human what a walk in these hills is like for a dog.  But imagine going shopping in one of those - whaddya call 'em - malls, except everything in the mall is made of stuff you can either eat or pee on.  Sometimes both.

Back in Brooklyn, my owners were known for having friends over and making orecchiette with sausage and fennel.  In Los Angeles, fennel's growing all over the friggin' place!  Out of the ground!  So believe me when I say I love going on these walks, even with the arthritis and whatnot.

It's a gorgeous January day out here (another thing you'll never hear in Brooklyn) and we're about halfway up this canyon when I see this crazy SOB run across our path with a friggin' rabbit in his mouth:

This coyote, he stops, looks at me like, "Whaddya gonna do, right?"  And I'm looking up at my owner like, "Seriously, whaddya gonna do?"  Now I don't wanna get too racial or anything, I mean, I'm from Brooklyn, where everyone lives with everyone and mostly gets along, but these coyotes... they aren't like other dogs.  They'll soon as gang up on you and mangle your coat as as sniff your hind parts.  So I didn't know what this crazy kid was gonna do next.

Lucky for me, I was with my owner and coyotes don't care much for humans.  After a second or two, he trots off and we turn back for home.

It was a lot of excitement for a girl my age to be seeing new, exciting things like that, and it's just one of the reasons I recommend to all my friends retirement in a lively setting.

But as I took a nap on the balcony that afternoon, looking back up into the hills, I was pretty grateful I have owners who take care of the whole food part for me.  Sure, the kibble gets boring sometimes, but what else am I gonna do?  Chase rabbits?  At my age?!  Come on!

Ugh

I ate some potatoes and beans last night (owners' leftovers) and I spent all night passing gas...

Anybody have a remedy?

Tough Week

I haven't been posting more often because it can be hard to find the time. I know, I know. Humans think all we do is lie around the cold floor and dream about chasing squirrels, but the truth is we're doing more than that. Thinking, for one. Planning, for two. And of course, guarding. Always guarding. Something humans seem to disregard altogether. They just go about their lives merrily, with their locks and funny keys, thinking that solves everything. But you know who takes care of things when someone breaks in? You guessed it. The dog.

The real hard part of keeping this blog going is finding a moment when I'm alone so I can write. See, if my owners knew I was writing this, they'd have a fit. They'd probably put me in therapy. That's why I won't give you too much information about them. Suffice it to say they both mostly work at home, so it's hard for me to steal time away in one of their computers and type this stuff, ya know?

The best time is usually when they're doing it, cause I could be in their fridge eating all their bacon and they wouldn't care. Well, they'd get mad afterwards.

Humans and dogs... Can't live with each other. Can't live without each other. I love the bastards but they drive me crazy. Like for example, how does it make sense that we're not allowed in banks??? I mean food stores, restaurants, I get it. We have a tendency to go crazy around stuff that smells good. But banks? What are you afraid we'll hold 'em up?

I know I complain a lot but whadda ya want? I'm from Brooklyn!

Pardon My French

Couldn't sleep last night.  I got the arthritis in my hips, which is as painful as it sounds. Don't get me wrong, the aches have eased up out here in sunny CA.  I don't have to walk up four flights of stairs and the dry heat seems to be doing these old bones good.  Our new building even comes with a swimming pool and sauna, which technically the HOA won't allow me access to.  But technically, those old bitches can kiss my furry ass.  Pardon my French.

So it's better out here, but some nights, it still keeps me up.  I'm 91.  Whaddya gonna do?

But last night, I couldn't sleep, so I hopped on the Apple TV to check out some new photos my owners put up.  (Sidebar: I love Apple TV.  Especially the remote.  It's so intuitive.  And crunchy.  I'm always looking for products I believe in to endorse.  Are you listening Steve Jobs?  I can see the ad copy already.  "Apple TV: so simple a 91-year-old dog from Brooklyn with arthritic hips can use it."  Done.  End of story.  Where's my paycheck?)

Anyhoo, I'm gliding through the photo albums when it occurs to me: In the last month, my crazy - pardon my French - SOB owners have dragged me to wine country, the desert, the beach, AND the mountains.  I'm 91 friggin' years old!  It's no wonder I can't sleep on account of my hips!

But that's the thing about humans.  You whimper, walk around in circles, pant heavily, give 'em the "sad  eyes," and what do they do?  They lock you in the back seat of the car while they go into a roadside diner to eat waffles.

I'm not complaining, I'm just saying, sometimes it's hard to be a dog.

By the way, I saw this crazy SOB - pardon my French - running around on one of our trips. Young, spunky, full of life, powerful haunches... ah, to be 3 again.

Back Home

So I retired to California about three years ago with my owners. At first, I wasn't thrilled about it. I'm a New York mutt thruandthru and had never left the city prior to that. Being a New York dog gives you a certain je ne ses quois... Your walk, your attitude... And, well... it just wasn't understood out here. 

But the truth is now I love California! It's pretty much always sunny, I don't have to walk up and down four flights of stairs anymore and most importantly, I don't have to defend my territory the way I did in New York. For a lady of a certain age like me, walking the block, peeing in your spots, letting others know I was there first, figuring out when to wag and when to growl... it's exhausting! 

Anyway, we went to Palm Springs for New Year's with all the regular humans my owners hang out with (more on them later) and I was flash-backing to New York like you wouldn't believe! 

Here's the thing humans don't realize about being a dog: it's hard!

They seem to think we have it easy. That all we do is sleep and sniff butts and eat but the truth is we have a lot of responsibilities that they just don't see. Like for example, I got off the car, immediately run to the front door and smelled everywhere. I said hi to the humans (they get all upset if you ignore them) but then I went into every room of the house and made sure it was safe: no rats, no dogs, no humans hiding in the closet with hand grenades (it happens), etc.  

Then, you gotta make sure none of them get lost. Humans are constantly wandering off on their own pr in couples to do God knows what. Who do you think keeps track of them? Yes, Sir. Yours truly. I'm part Shepperd, so my instinct for this is even greater but still all dogs do it. It's a big part of our job. 

It took me forever to figure out that humans poop on their own in these little rooms they call bathrooms, which is weird because it's also were they clean themselves. Who wants to clean themselves were they poop?!? 

But I stopped trying to understand humans a long time ago... I just live with them. 

Anyway, I keep getting away from my point, which is that New Year's was hard work and I'm happy to be back home in my balcony, checking out the hood. 

Whadda ya want? I'm from New York!

p.s. this is a picture of Chorizo, a Spanish cured sausage that one of the humans brought this year and which is one of my all-time favorites. 

So it's the new year...

I'm not too big on resolutions and all that big McGuff, but I figure everyone and their nephew's got a blog, why not me?  I got a point of view.  I got things to say.  And just 'cause I got paws doesn't mean I can't type, right?  Just don't tell my owners.  And if I play my cards right, maybe that Retriever in 407, what'shisname, Redford, will take note and become a follower.  Hey, it worked for Babs in THE WAY WE WERE, right?  Whadya want, I'm from Brooklyn.