Friday, September 30, 2011

Back from Jersey

Happy New Year, everyone!

What is up with New Jersey? Where are the people? Where are the doggies? Where's the garbage? Where are the rats? I loved the fresh air over there, but it was too quiet! Spooky!
I was there on an invitation to celebrate the Newish Jew Year. Oops, I meant the Jewish New Year.
It was awesome except for the fact that Enchilada didn't let anybody share scraps with me, which can only be described as sheer evil. Does she realize that my nose picks up scents a gazillion times more powerfully than hers? That I could smell the delicious chicken, the pot roast, the fish, the pomegranate seeds with rosewater? It was driving me crazy.
I put my best Oliver Twist face and begged so much that they had no choice but to give me a little bit of meat, which I inhaled in three seconds.
They leave the door open over there in Jersey and I took the opportunity to stroll in the grass. The grass is wonderful. I love the grass. But where I live, evil people don't let us dogs play in the grass. It's perverse.
Since I'm a city dog and lost in the suburbs, I actually pooped right in the middle of the road, where cars would come by once an hour. You know why? Because there was barely a sidewalk, that's why. What a strange place. Lots of grass but no sidewalks, lots of space but no dogs. It's like the opposite.
In any case, happy new year to everyone! You who can, eat your apples and honey and don't forget to be kind to all creatures (except roaches and rats, says Enchilada).

Saturday, September 24, 2011

With the Big Boys

People are amazed that I'm such a fearless little puppy. Fact is, I love the big guys. The bigger the dog, the happier I am to make their acquaintance. So today Enchilada took me (correction, I dragged her -- see post below) to the big dog run on Leroy St,  and the Hudson River and I felt like a fish in the sea. Loved it!
The big dogs are fascinating company. They're very cool because they can't be bothered. They are blasé about me, or they come, sniff, and even want to play. They are super patient when I start jumping at their faces.

Don't get me wrong, I like small dogs too, but some of them can be a little high maintenance. Some of them have no social graces. In any case, Enchilada almost had tears of pride in her eyes today that everybody at the big dog run was marveling at how fearless and self-confident and playful I was in the company of the big guys. What can I say? I'm pretty awesome.

Love of My Life

Here's Gus, my best friend, my platonic love, the guy who protects me from bigger dogs and howls with joy when he sees me. The guy who refuses to leave the premises as long as I'm still there and who plays gently with me for hours. We love each other very, very much.

Enchilada took me for a long walk today, in the hopes of tiring me out, and I could smell my friend Gus from 4 blocks away. I dragged her to the verboten big dog run, and sure enough, there he was!

Romantic music swells...

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Places to Go, People to See

Dear diary: I'm sorry I haven't written in a long time but I've been busy, busy, busy, with my New York lifestyle. What with the dog run, the long walks to the river, the outings for peeing and pooing -- my social calendar is swamped. Enchilada is taking care of me singlehandedly for a month (quite the selfless Jewish mother, I gotta say).
In fact, I'm the one who takes her to the dog run. I walk her.  I own her.
We do as I please.

Take me out, will ya?
Since we got back from our fabulous Mexican beach retreat, there has been drama. Enchilada complains that taking care of me, as sweet, good natured, cute, friendly, as I am, is not easy. True, I arise around 6 am, tail wagging frantically. She plays dead and so I let her sleep another hour or so. I think all that going out to pee and poo is what gets to her. She hates that I have to personally greet every dog in New York. And I don't take no for an answer. However, she has miraculously lost 4 pounds, from all this walking me around, so she should zip it.

With my friend Spencer
Then there was the food issue. In Mexico they gave me food from the breakfast buffet at the hotel because I absolutely refused to eat that despicable dog food they bought along in tupperwares. If you were me, you'd do the same. So Enchilada decided to cook for me when we got back and it was yummy boiled chicken and rice and beef. I loved it! Problem was, it was giving me Moctezuma's revenge. And neither of us felt good about that. Thankfully, she consulted her wise friend Jackie, who recommended this really expensive kibble. All these humans are telling her that she should not let me rule her life. That she's the leader of the pack and all that utter nonsense. As if. In one respect, she must have listened, because she stuck to her guns, tired me and almost starved me to death one day and then put the plate of this new stuff in front of me with the admonition that from now on that was going to be breakfast, lunch and dinner, no ifs, ands or buts. No more a la carte menu for me. Well, I devoured it. (Stage whisper: it's not that bad). Enchilada is ecstatic that she can now scoop up my poo without mortification, I'm happy that I'm pooing normal and that's that.
Now, as for the blessed dog run, you should see Enchilada suffering the other dogs, halfheartedly commenting on how cute they are, allowing them to jump on her lap and cover her with stinky dirt.  I understand that this is as radical a change as Hitler becoming a Hassidic Jew all of a sudden. I am causing her a major identity crisis.

Me? I love the dog run. I prefer bigger and older dogs, but I'll play with anyone who'll be nice to me. I don't like aggressive dogs. Many stupid little alpha males in the bunch, always looking to dominate. I play like a cat. I throw my front paws up in the air and right into a dog's face. Love it. The only two dogs that have ever scared me have been these two insufferably cute male puppies who are super aggressive. When one of them is there I won't even go in, he's such a savage. But look with whom I played today:

We got along like gangbusters

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Mystery Solved!

Hallelujah! The mysterious mystery of my origins has been solved!
I'm not a Morkie, or a Shmorkie or a Porkie.
I am -- drum roll please -- a YORKINESE! A mix of Yorkie and Pekinese.
This explains my floppy ears, my long tail, my cute face and apparently, the fact that when I eat, I need to take my food to the other room.
Enchilada is ecstatic that now she has the right answer for all those people so keen on knowing what the heck kind of dog I am.
Here's a description of my traits:
Yorkies, like all terriers, are brave, curious and energetic. Pekingese possess dignity and intelligence and are affectionate and good natured, making them good family pets and companions. 
That's me allright. The dignity part, hmmm... I don't know. I could be a bit more dignified. I chase after every dog known to man and I beg to play, even when they are haughty and snippy and uninterested.  On the other hand, I like to sit and ponder the mysteries of the universe. And I look plenty dignified when I'm doing that.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

My Vacation Photo Album

Me in my yacht.
Need I say more?
I swam in there
Found that tennis ball while looking for iguana poo, breakfast of champions.