But Call Me Betsy

I won't write a blog post that explains how little dogs are better than big dogs, because I've never owned a big dog and so have no basis for comparison. I also never, ever thought I would be happy with a little dog, as they made me think of snobby older white woman on Madison Avenue who carry their Pomeranian's like accessories. Little dogs didn't seem like real dogs--real dogs are water-loving golden retrievers or bear-like huskies or thick-necked Rottweiler's. But then, because we were trying to ease Luke into the idea of owning a dog, we went with the smaller model. Also, the hypoallergenic model, which is a whole other issue altogether, because we paid for him at a puppy store that may be an abuse factory for mommy dogs, and so we cannot say, "He's a rescue." People like to say this when you ask them their breed of dog. "Oh, we don't know. We rescued him from certain death." They like to put bumper stickers on their cars that read ...

We've had a dog for months and months now, the first dog I've ever owned, though I've always loved them, been a chronic dog-petter of strange dogs. At Penn, I inspired the Take Your Dog to Work idea that is still in effect today. I did that because we had a lot of dog owners and it was the only way I could get more than five minutes with the creatures. I've actually never met a dog I didn't like. I've liked some more than others, but I've liked almost all of them more than toddlers. Before we got the Morkie, I'd heard the comparison between puppies and babies; how puppies were like babies, requiring a lot of care in the beginning. This was true-ish--puppies and dogs in general are way more work than cats. With cats, you just show them the litter box one time, and they are potty-trained for life. Your furniture will get scratched to hell, and you have to make sure they don't run out of the door (as they will not return on their own), and you have ...

We've been talking for the last several months about getting a dog, so much so that a part of me thought that maybe one would appear at Christmas, and when that didn't happen, I thought maybe it would occur on my birthday last week. No dice. Anyone who knows me for more than five minutes understands that I love animals, and especially dogs and cats, and then anyone who knows me for more than fifteen minutes learns that I miss my cats, who are now under the constant care and supervision of my mom back in Philadelphia. I never had a pet growing up, unless you count fish, and I don't. To me, animals you can't pet or interact with are non-pets. Real fish are 1,000 times worse than say a stuffed pretend fish, because they require care and they appear to be trapped in these small containers and they don't interact and then they die, sometimes in dramatic suicide- like events where they throw themselves out of the tank, and you find them later, when you step on their dri...

Ginger came in for a visit to work. She's Denise's shelter dog and she's a cross between something and a Pomeranian.  I usually prefer medium to large dogs, having developed a certain disdain for yappy little dogs, but Ginger proved not to be a barker and behaved well. She also has a foxy little face and is fluffy, so it's like Denise brought a stuffed animal to work and made it come to life. She let's you carry her around as an accessory as well. My cat has been dead for over six years now and I still miss her sometimes, like this mrning. I mean, I don't feel sad about it every day; I don't have a shrine to her. I don't keep her ashes next to my bed (though I do have them in this wooden box that's like a recipe box. The vet mailed it to me and I'm certain it contains many different lost cats, mixed together).  With cats, there are really only a handful of stories you can recall about things they did or things that happened to them---it...

I am having a hard time getting to this blog regularly to update it, though it's nagging at me in the back of my mind. My idea for now is to keep the posts simple, so this will be about 5 things of note that happened this week. Okay? No pressure! 1. I got my hair cut all the way off on Wednesday by the amazing Leslie at DiCarlo's hair salon on Sansom and 12th Street. I liked her a lot too; and we quickly discovered that we had some geographical things in common. Both lived in Chicago, then moved to Florida, and ended up in Philadelphia. She chopped off about six inches of dead hair (I knew I was in trouble when I started obsessively biting off split ends during Commencement like a crazy person). She straightened it after the cut, but promised me it would be cute too if I didn't straighten it, and she's right--I noticed today that the ends are flipping up in such a way that makes me feel like Daisy Buchanan. 2. Dan made a kitty perch for Ernesto on Sunday and the...

We went to Niagara Falls last weekend with Dan's mom and Luke. It was a long long drive, and we stayed at a Quality Inn that wasn't. Ever since I heard some 20/20 e xpose on what goes on in hotel rooms, I find it difficult to sit on any available surface in a hotel room, imagining that it's teeming with feces and bodily fluids of dozens of strangers. Clearly, Dan does not share my fears. Also, this is totally staged. Luke posed like this on purpose. We did a few of the touristy things, such as going to the Caves of the Winds (on the way down in the elevator, a young tour guide got on at the last second and turned toward the rest of us to say in a monotone voice, We are now descending 475 feet to the basin of the mountain...The elevator was so crowded that his nose was almost touching Dan's. I laughed out loud and Dan closed his eyes and I knew he was controlling himself to keep from laughing too). They give you a little poncho and these free suctiony sandals...

This is just a test to see how it us to post a blog remotely. Not sure how it will turn out...If it does turn out, what you're viewing are a bunch of dogs we saw this weekend on the dog strip of the beach in Ocean City, NJ. Be happy for the little miniature collie above who looks like he's about to mount the bigger one. His name is Lucky and he's 15. Still living it up, as you can see.

Well, we can still get flooding from the Schuykill River which is supposed to peak at 2 PM today. I was briefly listening to Fox News this morning at the gym and one of the reporters said, We're taking viewers' questions and the one that keeps coming up is: "If this were a snowstorm, how many inches of snow would we have gotten?" That's maybe the dumbest question I've ever heard in my life. Like asking, If this had been squirrels falling from the sky instead of rain, how many squirrels would have landed and would they have survived or just been flattened? In any case, I categorized the devastation for you. Millimeters of rain fall flooding my street: Recyling bins filled with inappropriately heavy material toppled. Fortunately, the neighbor's blow up pool, which comes out at the first sign of spring and stays out until its frosted over by ice, did not fly away in the night. Little Paulie can continue to play in it rather than ever being able to go ...

There must be something that occurs in the brain--some kind of procrastination chemical--that makes it so easy for me to think of things I'd like to write about only during those moments where I can't possibly write. I'm late for work, or I'm skiing down a mountain or I'm being mugged and that's when I tell myself, I really have to write this down at some point. And I don't. For instance, I saw this regular looking guy the other day outside of the fountain at Passyunk Square, just circling it and occasionally, very casually, dipping down to scoop the lucky pennies out of it. What's his story? The truth is that I haven't been writing (not in this blog, not in my journal), and it makes my mind and self feel creatively flabby--lazy, unproductive--even though I think about stories a lot of the time. Dan wants to write one about his former landlady, an 80-something year old woman who's living in this giant house where her family used to be, and she...

I forgot to mention that little dogs can also be included in the cats-in-hats competition. Why not? This dog below is smaller than many cats we've already seen. This is Tut, who was born of a bastard Jack Russell slut of a dog from Philadelphia. He is ten years old, mostly blind, and the only child of Jim and Lisbeth ________. He will likely outlive them. His interests include walking, biting children in the park, riding on the neck of Jim, intruding on social gatherings, pooping in inappropriate places (and never being punished), and squeaky toys. Here he is on a pillow in the living room of the home I've never been to because Lisbeth is a hoarder and they also never have toilet paper. Looking dapper on the patio, currently under redesign by the Amish. Note foggy eyes. Full body shot. The reason he is named Tut (as in King Tut) is because of the black triangle on his tail, which reminded the nine year old neighbor girl of the pyramids. Huh?

Somehow, I managed to offer and be taken up on the offer to dog sit this weekend. I realized almost right away that I would need somehelp, so Lisa Marie has been my walker friend, even going so far as to get up at 6:45 AM this morning to get the dogs fed and walked at 7 AM. That's what I call a good friend. I forgot how much energy dogs have. I'm used to cats who can sit or lie like lumps for hours at a time, barely requiring one to notice their existence. Dogs, on the other hand, are noisy breathers, they scratch at their collars, they pull your arm out of your socket as you walk them, and you have to pick up their warm poop with your hands. I still like dogs, but I do appreciate my Emma Carol just a little bit more, even though, this morning, she was walking all over the stovetop, flaunting her own saftey. Anyway, here is an example of dog walking for you.

That's part of a conversation I overheard on my way to work today---a man and a woman waiting for the bus, and the guy was obviously hitting on the woman. He said, "You together with someone? You got a man?" The lady just laughed and I kept going and so didn't get to hear the rest of the discussion.I walked up 15th street today for a change of pace and scenery. Saw a cute little white and black patched three legged dog, but resisted petting him for fear he would topple over. Went to Zumba last night, but we had a different teacher--one with a very round bottom and a penchant for Hawaiian-ish luau moves. She kept a smile on her face the whole time. We did a lot of jiggedy-jiggedy hip movements and thrusts. I didn't hate it, but the other teacher's class is much more high energy and the time seems to fly by. Here is how nice my friends are. Julie in State College sent me a birthday present, though I have probably never, ever have gotten her anything and have...

The Halloween decorations have started--in fact, they started in mid-September really. Some of them are really scary--blood-hand prints and amputated limbs and pics of Rush Limbaugh. Others are sweet--like black kittens in witches' hats. And this pumpkin looks so happy, don't you think? I don't particularly like this one because the plastic pumpkin is ugly, but I appreciate the huge effort these people put into it. There are even little ghosts hanging down and they've sort of done a combination of Halloween/autumn tribute. Below, please find a snack pack I bought the other day. They tasted good, but it's weird how it looks like you're eating multi-colored larvae. Excited dog + my shadow. Sad dog wondering where all the cowboys have gone. Manny and I are going to see Bruce Springsteen tomorrow night for free because he is well-connected. Can't wait! I'm hoping to be pulled up onstage by the Boss ala Courtney Cox in the MTV video. How hot is he!!!!!!!! Loo...