This Is How I Roll

I like to watch life go by.

Someone Spiked My Drinks

There is no other way to explain the major attack of shpilkes I had last night. It was insane. I was running laps around the coffee table like Emerson Fittipaldi at Le Mans.
I was playing manically with Enchilada until we tore the leg off poor Roberto, Ronaldo or Rigoberto, whatever his name is, The Frog. I was chomping on any nose on my radar, biting anything that moved. I put my head inside a stinky sneaker. I had what they call my cara de loca, my crazy face on.

What happened?
The human theories abounded:

She's just happy because the 100 degree heat is down.
The noise from the TV set drives her crazy.
She hates Jazz (not all of it).
She is teething.
She's happy about her new food.
There is something weird in the new food.
She snorted coke somewhere.
She's having like a teenage moment.
She is going crazy and there is nothing we can do to stop it.

And then as quickly as it came, I crashed, all my energy depleted like an empty battery. It left my body like a ghost. Today, I could not get up, just like after a major party binge!
Now I'm back to being a little angel.

Who knows what will happen next... Muahahaha!

Hunger Strike

Crappy/Less Crappy

 Being as I am used to getting filet mignon and pate de campagne, I refused to continue eating that crackly crap for puppies they were giving me. I pulled a Mahatma Gandhi, which forced my minders to improve my eating conditions.
Enchilada was appalled at the fact that there are three or even four aisles dedicated exclusively to dog food, even worse, she claims, than the cereal aisle for humans. She thinks pet products are like wedding expenditures: with the excuse of loving sentiment, it's sheer armed robbery.
So they got me a new food that has chewy stuff in it that I actually like. It does not beat Boulud, but it's good for noshing.

Blueberries are prey...

...and must be eyed with suspicion.

Then they are consumed with relish.

Gunfight at the OK Corral

My first squirrel, ladies and gentlemen. Improbably, I had not seen a one since arriving to this fair and hellishly hot city a month ago.
What are those, like cute rats with furry tails?
I saw it, it saw me. It climbed up a tree and we stared each other down. I can do lots of things but climbing up a tree ain't one of them. If it hadn't been for Enchilada's fast grip on my smiley face leash, I'd have run in hot pursuit.
Here I am, stalking a blueberry:

Monkey Business

Yesterday they went to the movies and when they came back, their eyes were swollen and they were blowing their noses and they were crying! Heartbroken! I thought it was their guilt for leaving me at home, but it turns out they saw a movie about a chimpanzee called Nim, that made them very, very sad. Enchilada was repeating her mantra that people should leave animals alone, that what vanity and nerve (or as that bitch calls it, Choot-spa) humans have to think that they can lord over us. She doesn't buy the "but you give love to the animals and they love it" theory. She thinks animals should be with animals, and we can all get along, but to each his own. She went into a tirade about not separating animals from their kind. I agree with that, but I'll take New York with these two, over Caracas with my parents and brothers and sisters any time.
That poor chimp. I hope they don't decide to teach me Esperanto or something and I end up in a cage. I would never forgive them.

My First Bath

Or, what fresh hell is this?
I went from looking like a particularly grungy denizen of the East Village, to looking like a lady at the Ascot races. But what happened in between was rather dismal. My owners, of course, thought it was a hoot. I beg to differ. I liked the part when they dried me out with a towel. The rest is overrated.

WTF?

Yesterday I met a "pure" Yorkie called Miette. The owner quickly pointed out it means "morsel" in French and stated that it doesn't look like I am a pure Yorkie, because of my floppy ears, but that I have a beautiful face. Well excuuuuse me.
Miette is 4 years old and is, believe it or not, half my size. She is impeccably groomed. Her hair cascades around her dainty little face and her coat is even and coiffed and a beautiful tan and silver. She is totally obedient, unlike me and my rebel streak. We played a little, so she was cool. But then apparently she had an appointment at the community garden. Ces't la vie.
After my bath I look like a million bucks myself.

Punk East Villager From Astor Place or Lady Astor?

 You be the judge.

Stop the Presses!

Tonight I ate filet mignon. Nothing will ever be the same.
That's all.

My First Play Date

Yesterday, my owners had a screening and cocktail party to attend and they left me all alone. I hate it when they leave me. I hate hate hate it. Suddenly, one of them comes back, while I was still looking under the door to see if they had really left, cold-hearted bastards. So fast? Turns out they got the brilliant idea to leave me in the care of my fabulous friend Jackie and her Cocker Spaniel Bugsy, who allows me to jump all over his face like a maniac and utters nary a peep. Cocktail schmocktail. I had FUN! I played and I played and I played some more and we walked and they fed me nice food and not that crap I get at home and I even got these fabulous new collars (still big on me) from Toby's mom. Toby is a Pomeranian who could not care less about me and my playful ways. One collar has rhinestones and the other one has smiley faces. I'll need to see how they look on me. I played so much that today, I didn't wake up until 9!
Sometimes humans use their brains. It happens once in a while.

Life's a Beach

En el mar, la vida es más sabrosa...

The sea! The sand! The sun! The great unwashed! Yesterday we all went for the first time to Far Rockaway, Brooklyn, for a day of fun in the sun. There were these huge white birds that make noises and eat garbage. Oh, how I wanted to chase after them, but this boardwalk thing was confusing and a little scary. I'm not used to walking on slats and there was a little girl who got a huge splinter in her foot (never heard anyone scream like that, ever), so my owners didn't want the same happening to me. It was decided that I promenade on people's arms (get in line).
The sea: is nice! It smells salty and I looove the breeze. I literally air surf. Give myself a blow dry with that nice, fresh wind.
If they had let me on to the sand, imagine all the towel pulling and toe biting I could have accomplished. Alas, one of them is a helicopter mother who monitors my chewing and sniffing as closely as Portnoy's mother did his bowel movements (she also monitors my bowel movements. Sometimes it seems my bowel movements are the sole reason for her existence). The other one thinks I am her personal chewable toy. She was the one that force fed me dessicated Puppy Chow on the boardwalk while they were getting these tasty Venezuelan Hot Dogs (I take issue with the name. Why not Hot Pigs, Hot Cows? What's up with the political incorrectness?). Anywho. I had fun.

Dog Eat Dog. Not.

Actually, they did not serve me a nice hot dog yesterday, not even a scrap of chorizo, at my very first barbecue and social outing of the Summer, where I must say I had pretty much everybody in thrall. For my charming entertaining efforts I was given puny treats, because one of my minders neglected to bring my dinner (sheesh!) and finally I got some fabulous grilled chicken made by a hero who stood behind the smoke and burning coals the entire evening.
Today, even though Enchilada is bent on making me poo, I am not just going to do it any time SHE wants. Since they put me on that malignant leash, I find pooing rather intimidating. Whereas au naturel suited me much better. Oh, well. Let the chips fall where they may.
As I was saying, the BBQ was oodles of fun, especially getting to meet the fabulous Hunter, a one year old mighty human who became my best pal. Enchilada kept comparing us to his poor mother. It is true we are both fearless and adorable. People were watching us play and someone was screaming for someone to shoot us for our 15 minutes of viral fame on You Tube, but everybody was too hypnotized to do anything about it. One thing I will say about Enchilada, she is not a stage mother. She actually barely suffers (rather gamely, I must admit) all the oohing and aahing I elllicit from every single bystander.  I suspect that all she wants is some of all that attention for herself. I pity her. She is used to be the center of attention, but not any more. I can't imagine what that feels like.
I have to ask my dear uncle Alex, the most gracious host, on the most fabulous rooftop in Brooklyn (I like Brooklyn!) on the most amazing Summer day so far, to send me the pictures of me with my adoring fans so you guys can see them.

Exhibit A

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the offending cat collar:

If this is not an affront to canine dignity and freedom, I don't know what is.

No Justice, No Peace!

Anger Management

Enchilada is angry at me for a variety of reasons for which I am not in the least culpable:

1. It's not my fault they don't know how to communicate. They are not very precise with peeing times. I let them know I'm about to let loose and one of them thinks I want to play, the other one gives me food. Idiots. One of them is like a Swiss watch, and the other one has no sense of time. Then they give me grief because I pee inside (tiny droplets, mind you, by the stink they raise you would think it's Lake Titicaca). Between the two of them they are lucky their house is not a pee water park yet.

2. Did I ask for a leash? Whence this newfangled leash thing? I do not appreciate the stupid red collar with, are you sitting down? a little rattle bell. I sound like a mono version of Santa's sleigh. To add insult to injury, it's a cat collar, because the dog collars are too big for my neck.
What am I, an elf?
I loathe the leash. Before, I could just dart like a maniac (and I am fast) after dogs, pigeons, joggers, strollers, busy New York people texting. Cars? What are cars? I am fearless. And up to yesterday, I was free. Now they think they can control me with this instrument of torture. But I'm not stupid. I sit back, refuse to move, and the collar slides off my head, presto. That'll show them who's boss.

3. Enchilada thinks I don't know how she feels about me. She claims she has no life anymore. She's blaming me for her writer's block with her screenplay -- the nerve. She says she is bored and wants her life back. She claims she was perfectly happy without me. Then don't try to make nice when I come home, 'cause you hurt my feelings. I didn't ask to come here, and though I'm really digging it, she should take a chill pill. Enchilada is fun to play with (she's good at improvising toys), but she hates that I bite her toes. Next time, don't paint your toenails shocking pink, lady.

Just for the record: I am THREE MONTHS OLD. So excuse me if I don't yet master human, okay?  Excuse me if I can't make a dry martini and read Proust.
Has she deigned to inform you that I happen to sleep all night long? What human baby my age sleeps all night? Hey, what 3-month old baby is toilet trained? Exactly. Zero.
I rest my case.

My Anthem

(Can? Anybody? Find meee? Somebody toooo? Gnaw)
Oooh oooh oooh ooh...

Each mornin' I get up I bite a little
They can barely stand on their feet
Take a look (take your sole) in the mirror and cry
Petra what are you doing to my feet?
I have spent all my teeth gnawing at you
But I just can't get no relief!
Lord!
Somebody, somebody, ooh somebody, somebody
Can anybody find me somebody to gnaw?
 

Yeah.
I gnaw hard (she gnaws hard) every day of my life
I gnaw till I chew on their bones
At the end (at the end of the day) I take home
my hard earned treats all on my own
I get down on my knees
And I start to bite
Till the tears run down from their eyes
Lord! Somebody, (somebody) ooh, somebody
Please anybody find me: somebody to gnaaaaaw aaaww?
(She gnaws hard)
Everyday!
I bite and I bite and I bite
But everybody wants to put me down
They say I'm goin' crazy
They say I got a lot of puppy chow in my brain
Got no common sense
I got nobody left to belieeeeeeeeve!
(chow chow chow chow)

[INSERT BRIAN MAY'S AWESOME GUITAR SOLO HERE]

Ooh somebody, ooh somebody:
Anybody find me sooome-body to gnaw!
(Can anybody find me someone to gnaw?)

I feel I got no rhythm
I just keep losin' their feet (she just keeps losin' and losin'!)
I'm okay, I'm alright (she's alright she's alright)
Ain't gonna face no defeat
I just gotta get out of this prison cell
Someday I'm gonna be free!
LORD!

Find me somebody to gnaw
Find me somebody to gnaw
Find me somebody to gnaw
Ahahaahooo!
Find me somebody to gnaw
Find me somebody to gnaw (find me find me find me)
Find me somebody to gnaw
Find me somebody to gnaw
Find me somebody to gnaw gnaw gnaw gnaw
Find me somebody to gnaw
Find me somebody to gnaw 
(ooh, hooh hooh hooh hooh, hooh hooh hoo!)
Somebody SOMEBODY somebody SOMEBODY somebody find me
somebody find me somebody to GNAW
Can anybody find me:
Somebody toooooooooo
GNAAAAAAAAAAAAAW.

A Night at The Opera

Enchilada is always sticking her nose in facebook and it's a big deal to get her to play with me (she tires easily). But today she was checking other people's lives and listening to an aria by Michael Nyman and my ears went BOOM! What is that amazing high pitched noise? Loved, loved, loved that singing. Then she realized that I was transfixed by it so she went into Pandora, created a Maria Callas station and first thing I know, that incredible, very sad song from Madame Butterfly. I like it, don't get me wrong, but I kinda like modern, minimalist stuff better. Then Enchilada has the nerve to start singing opera to me. Apparently she has no sense of ridicule.

Whose Big Birthday Is It Today?

Hmm... they didn't go to work this morning. Everybody was grilling yummy stuff on the streets! Whose humongous party is this and where can I get an invite?
First, they took me to the High Line, the new section. Dogs are not allowed in there, but at first I was in my RV. We came in on 30th St and walked with me on my mistress' arms and nobody said anything until we were caught by a Parks lady all the way down by 16th st. The Parks lady had a point. What's fair is fair. So down we went by The Standard and it was my first time at the meatpacking district. I liked! However, I must say it was too hot! I was shvitzing and my RV was like a sauna, so I did not have such a great time. I couldn't chew the flowers, dart after people's feet or go crazy playing as I usually do. But the humans were in love with that park in the sky.  They dropped me off at home (I hate it when they do that) and they went without me to Chinatown. Not fair. But I have to admit that here at home it was very comfy and cool and because of that I did not pee (that they could tell) or poo inside.  And then we all went up on a roof, and what do you know? Crazy booms and blasts and flowers of light in the sky. I got very mortified at first and my heart was racing fast, but I was also looking at those sparkly things (I'm no chicken. I'm pretty fearless). Then we stepped back from the ledge a little and I felt a little safer (I don't trust that they will not drop me on my head. They are a bit clumsy sometimes when I squirm like a live clam cause I wanna get down). Then I thought, okay, enough with the giant sparklers, been there done that. You see one firework, you've seen them all. I went right to sleep as the humans hooted and hollered. They get excited over the weirdest things!