Mystical Helps Put Up Christmas Tree

Herself said: "I'm going to put up the tree early this year ... I want something beautiful to look until January 12th."

I rolled my eyes. Because I like order ... not mess. Every thing in its place. And I've learned that putting the tree up is very messy. I must admit when all the fixing is over, it is heavenly. I sit and look up at it and smile.

In order for the tree to get dressed, it needs a human. (This tree is an artificial one because of me, Herself says. A real tree would drop needles which would make me sick if I ate one ... as if I would, ugggg!) At first, I leave the room, not much for me to do. But then, Herself puts on some Andrea Bocelli as she puts up the tree. That brings me back out into the Living Room and I sit in the middle of the mess until Herself sits me up on a chair to watch.

I found myself singing along with Andrea. Ufff, ufff, ufff in a low voice ... he is definitely better than me. But I was happy. I was with Herself, doing a duet with Andrea and the tree was going up. What could be better than that?

Next, comes the pretty things that go on the tree ... we will do that next weekend.

I'll wait for you by the door ... I can see the tree from there.

A Dog's Look of Love

This Dog's Thoughts on Biting Reporters

Here's the thing. The Election is over. Senator Obama has won. President Bush said some really nice things about the peaceful transfer of power that is the foundation of this fabulous country of mine.

But, Barney, the President's dog must be sensing departure from his home ... the White House. He's been First Dog for a long time. He has had free access to all the rooms ... sliding along the shiny floors ... running around the Christmas Trees, lots of interesting people visiting - some of them speaking really strange languages.

But ... today, he snapped. And bit a reporter. Hey, don't get me wrong ... that's a no no. But, Barney may know something about this particular reporter ... he may have overheard this reporter make some despairing comments about his Master, George, and seeing as they are moving out kinda soon ... Barney spoke his mind. "Take that", Barney said.

Good boy, Barney. Come on over to my house and play. But ditch the secret service guys. I'll wait for you by the door.

This Dog's Critique of the Palin/Biden Debate

I watched the debate with Herself. I curled up on her lap and watched intensely. 70 million humans and God's knows how many dogs and cats were watching. I had all my paws crossed ... and then ...

I think she won ... you betcha!

Old Joe was knocked out by her smiles, jabs, charm and yes, I actually understood what she was saying about things I don't understand ... she made them understandable. I got it!

You go girl!

Sarah, you can come over to my house anytime you want and play ... Joe, it's ok ... you can stay home.

I'm Just a Dog, But This Economic Crisis Affects Me, Too

OK ... now listen in.

I may be small, I may be only a dog, but I have some serious thoughts about all this money crises business. Nobody invited me to the meeting at the White House yesterday. How they thought that anything could get done without me being there just doesn't understand what I could have accomplished for the nation.

First of all, I would run around the table and make all those grumpy men and women smile and maybe giggle. Then I would jump up on each of their laps and whisper in their ears ... you are not here to keep your jobs, you are here to solve this serious problem ... and then maybe you would qualify to keep your jobs. Do what you are elected to do, and then I will lick your face.

But, because I wasn't there ... there was a mess. Yelling, pointing fingers, huffing and puffing, while all the time, the serious problem didn't get fixed. There wasn't anyone around that table that made me proud. Grrrrrr to them all.

Do your job. Fix the problem. Don't screw up ... or I'll bite your ankle ... and I've never done that in my life ... but that's how angry I am. Term limits for you all. I honestly don't know what that means but Herself is shouting it all around the apartment. And whatever she says I agree with completely. Just as long as she doesn't want term limits for me ... I intend to live with her forever.

Whew! I'm exhausted. I'm going to take a nap in my bed ... so you won't find me by the door. When I wake up ... I hope these characters got to work and did what Herself and I and all of us sent them down there to do ... fix things - not make them worse.

Fleas ... I hate fleas.

Ok, I'm confessing ... I seem to have .......................... fleas.

I turn myself into contortions with my paw and leg folded in such a way that I'm able to scratch the little pests in those areas where I dare not speak.

Why is it that these minuscule devils leap onto me and get in the most difficult places for me to get at? How inconsiderate of them. First of all, they have free housing ... on me. They have free transportation ... on me. They never have to write out a check for rent or pay for bus fare, taxi fare, plane fare, gas ... nothing. Just ride around on me, all the while reproducing. You would think they would shut up and be quiet and NOT BITE ME.

Ok Ok. I'm all for friendliness between us creatures, but it's enough, already.

I happen to be hanging out at AuntJ's house for a few days ... so there were many phone conferences between Herself and AuntJ, while I was standing in the background scratching. It was decided that it was time to bring in the troops. So, I was prepped for Advantage.

What a relief. Almost immediately I felt better. Woof! That stuff's good. Goodbye fleas ... don't ever come back.

Life is great. All is right with the world ... sans fleas.

Do Dogs Know Right From Wrong?

I have to admit that I have a conscious. I rarely do anything wrong ... of course ... but when I do, in order to get that extra bit of attention from Herself or, if I'm just in a bad mood ... something occurs, I won't go into details, and I do something that makes me feel awful.

I hang my head and look up at Herself from under my eyelashes, my tail low on the floor and I put on my most pathetic face and she usually says something like "It's OK ... I love you". Whew! I always feel better after hearing that. Up goes the tail and all is well with my world.

They are doing testing to determine whether dogs can tell right from wrong. Check out this article
I can tell them right now ... we know. I definitely know when I get praise when I do something right or I get one of those looks from Herself, when I don't. But the funny thing is, we dogs know the instant we do something ... right or wrong. We just need to be shown that right is better than wrong.

Wait for you by the door, contemplating more deep thoughts.

Can You Believe ... I Now Got a Message From A ... Walrus

I have to translate its barks ... and I can't find a walrus translator ... so it will be a few hours. I'm going to take myself off to the Central Park Zoo and see if one of the Walruses there will do me a favor.

I'll get back to you ... meanwhile ... say a little prayer for me ... in case I look very tempting to Walruses.

Of course, there were no Walruses in Central Park but I did run over to the Museum of Natural History, where I found a couple of them ... strangely still but somehow I got the translation ... I can't believe I'm having a conversation with something this big.

I'd like to introduce myself to you guys. Your blog is swell, I mean really literature, if you get my drift.

I glommed onto your blog, but since I'm no expert on this computer stuff (definition of expert: ex = has been and spurt - a drip under pressure) I thot I'd like to make connection wid yous if dat's all roit.

My name's Walrus on account of my moustaches. They are magnificent, if I do say so myself. And when I bark, well you guys haven't heard the like. Goes for miles and people keep their distance. Some say it's because of my bad breath. Hey, I ain't got no bad breath, It's just I eat fish and sea stuff which accounts for my shiny coat. Oooh, do the humans love to stroke me, when I let 'em - which is never.

I love to bask in the sun on the rocks. No that isn't a drink, it's a location, and as they say in the southern part of what they call California, it's "location, location, location. " and I've got it made. I live in heaven on earth and have the most wonderful stars to look at at night. Makes me want to sing. I might compose a little song for you in your honor if you'd like. Gotta go now, there's a school of smelt which I can even smell a mile off.

Wishing you the best with your new food Belle (we have bells where I live too - they're called buoys) and Mystical I hear you're a real humdinger as are you Belle. It's a pleasure to read your news.

Most sincerely, and please forgive my spelling, not my strong point.

Walrus
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So ... I had to answer ... I mean, wouldn't you? I emailed back and said ...


Hey ... Walrus. I'm absolutely speechless. You are one cool dude or dudette. Love to see a picture of you lulling on your back with your laptop on your tummy ... Wow!

But you have to tell me, and the world, whether you are a girl walrus or a guy. I wouldn't know where to look ... if you know what I mean.

When I look at your photo I say to myself, "Mystical, you better stand waaaay back when you talk to this dude ... cause you're itsy bitsy next to him/her."

Also, you need a name besides Walrus ... cause all walruses have that name and it's obvious to me that you ain't just any old Walrus. I've been thinking ... which I do constantly ... how about Russ or Wallie or Slim (that's my favorite ... it makes me smile).

Tell us more about you. I'll post it on my blog mysticalthenewyorkdog.com but you need to tell me whether you are a girl or boy, what you name is and how old (if you are a girl walrus, please forgive me that age question).

I'd say I"ll wait for you by the door ... but if you came into my building, on the Upper East Side, my doorman would freak out. Especially if you waddled in and said, in your really deep bark, I'M HERE TO SEE MYSTICAL" Besides, how would you fit in the elevator?

I'll think about you lulling around in the ocean (hey! do you ever go surfing? .... ah no ... on second thought I guess not.) Thanks for your note ... Herself and I loved it.

Mystical

Belle, the Cat, is Alive and Well Living in California

Don't get me wrong ... I'm not into cats, myself, but I know a lot of humans are. Herself's friend, Angie just brought home Belle, rescued from a shelter.

Angie had had another really fabulous looking dame (cat) called Natasha. She lived a very good life, with two humans at her beck and call. However, she was, the rumor is, of royal blood, possibly, by way of the Tsar family, and she was always looking down on her humans and I suppose us dogs. Now, quite frankly, that wasn't hard to do ... because she always headed for a perch on a higher level than the rest of us. I never met Tasha, but Herself did ... and she told me about her beauty and attitude. But, sadly, Tasha went to Cat heaven and probably found the highest throne and sat down and stayed there.

Now, there's Belle. Who, Herself tells me, is possibly the exact opposite of Tasha. Friendly, loves hanging out with Angie and her husband, Dan, talks incessently. If I were there, I may be able to translate ... although my cat language is a little rusty. But, talks she does and obviously very happy to be home with the Rooney's. She purrs her delight and Angie and Dan smile. She is doing what she is meant to: beginning to heal the pain of the loss of Tasha.

I don't know what we dogs and cats would do without our humans ... but I've heard said, that they are better humans because of us.

Hey, Belle, I'll wait for you by the door, in case you want to visit.

Enough Already!

You know ... enough already!

I now know what to listen for before Herself leaves the house and doesn't take me. When she says, "I can't take you, but I'll be home soon"...I'll then know that she won't be gone an interminable time (whatever that means...because 5 minutes fits that category as far as I'm concerned). But ... when I hear ... "I'll be home later" that's the signal. I have to listen carefully for either "soon" or "later" because if I hear "later" that means endless waiting.

Like this past weekend. She left me with everything else I love in my life, like food, water, my various beds and pads, talk radio rambling on, air conditioning, light in various rooms, I mean I should have been very content ... right? Content? I was miserable.

Where was she? Why isn't she here? How long must I wait? Doesn't she care about me? Oh! Come on ... come home already! I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't daydream. I couldn't pee for gosh sakes.

The earth moved around the Sun. The Sun began to go down (don't ask me where down is ... but it went down) ... and still no Herself.

PLEEZE COME HOME!!!!!!

Then ... what was that? ... I heard something ... someone coming up the elevator ... IT'S HER!
SHE DID COME BACK!!!!

I cried out, I licked frantically. I lept into her arms determine never to let go. I'm happy once again.

But ............. I now know what to listen for ... I've learned a new word "later". I don't like that word.

Next time, I will throw myself against the door and not let her out unless she takes me. PERIOD. That's it. No compromises.

I would wait for you by the door ... but I'm so tired of that view after 12 hours of looking at the door yesterday that I'll just listen, and if I hear you coming, then I'll run to the door, happy you've come to see me.

I am not spoiled!

I would know if I was spoiled.

Someone came up to Herself the other day on the streets of New York while she was holding me in the usual way, my body tucked under her right arm. He said, "She (meaning me) must be very spoiled" and before Herself could come to my defense, he walked off. Rude Dude!

I looked up at Herself and saw her with a little smile on her face and interpreted that as meaning, Oh, go floss your teeth, you jerk. At least I think that's what it meant. She couldn't have been agreeing with him ... could she?

I know I'm not spoiled because I do everything that is expected of me and do it with class. I'm very neat, I don't bark very much, I get along with everyone, all my neighbors invite me into their homes knowing that I will do exactly the right thing ... no mistakes ... I'm very mannerly and I show my appreciation of everyone's kindness to me. You've read my blog ... would you say I'm spoiled?

Gosh! That guy really got under my paws. I guess I just can't please everyone. He didn't know me ... he just passed judgement on me without knowing a darn thing about me. My advice: don't do that ... get to know a person, or dog, first ... then when you know a whole lot about them, you can form your opinion.

Oh well ... I'll take my unspoiled body over to the door and wait for you there.

She Bought a Maltese To Get Exercise

Herself and I read about this Designer who needed some exercise so she bought a Maltese so she could walk her. But ... the darling Maltese didn't like to walk and was carried all over. So that exercise plan didn't work. Anyway, what little dog wants to look at feet throughout the walk when you can be carried and look at the sky.

She then decided on dancing. And she took herself to a dance studio.

Now I could have told her that dancing is fabulous. When Herself starts dancing around the apartment, I jump up and want her to take me through the Cha Cha and Tango too. And off we go, dancing around the chairs and into the other rooms ... me in Herself's arms and both of us lost in the music and moves.

Fabulous ... love it.

I'll sashay over to the door and wait for you there.

Is that a Hermes Bag You're Sitting In?

Whoa! That's some bag this cutie is riding around in. A yellow Hermes.

Me, I sit and lounge and look out of a black thingie with soft sides and a decided me-smell to it. Every now and then, Herself tosses it into the washing machine and then it smells of Tide-lite. Although it's my "let's go out" home to me, it sure isn't Hermes.

I think I have to have a serious heart to heart with Herself about my carriage. Seeing as she has to carry it, you would think she would want it to be more fashionable. But no! It has to be something that she can walk into the best restaurants with and not be noticeable ... so she can eat, while I snooze in the black thingie on her lap and nobody knows. EVERYONE would look at her if she walked in with a Hermes bag, be it with me inside or a gathering of cosmetics, a blackberry, coins and falling in value US dollars. So, I guess we'll stick with old black faithful and not be noticed.

Each time we walk out of restaurants, theaters and yes, churches, we smile a "we did it again" smile.

I'll wait for you by the door ... as soon as I get home to sit by the door ... to wait for you.

Park Avenue Prefers Malteses

Money magazine has an article called 35 Signs the Market Hasn't Hit Bottom. One of them says that we Maltese dogs are still favored over Rottweilers by the elite Park Avenue crowd. Have you ever seen a Rottweiler? I mean, duh! That's a hard choice?

No disrespect, Big Rotty ... I mean I wouldn't want you to take a bite out of me for dissing you but I am a lot more adorable and appropriate for the Park Avenue scene...don't you agree?

I'll wait by the door ... but sorry, it will be just fine Mr. R. if you don't show up.

Herself and I Have Been Sick

I know that Herself and I are very close ... but being sick together is taking closeness to a ridiculous level.

Herself rushed me to the Hospital in New York (which I won't mention by name, because Herself is not happy about the 'treatment' I received). I can't really tell you what was happening to me except to say that I felt my tongue was falling back into my throat ... and I couldn't stop it ... it was a very weird feeling. So, we got into a cab, picked up AuntJ along the way and off we went. I was wrapped in a warm blanket and Herself was holding me. We got to the hospital and an Intern (who will be nameless because she had a lousy bedside manner or rather examining table side manner) took me into the examining room looked into my month and immediately said it was one of my teeth in the back that was loose. She took me into another room and yanked it out. No injection, no painkiller ... just yanked. Then she said that I could go home. Herself, herself, was on the verge of getting real sick with a horrendous cold just wanted to take me home, so we left. (after paying the bill, of course).

I didn't feel myself for days ... wasn't interested in eating or playing. But two days later Herself called the Doctor and asked why I wasn't given antibiotics for the "bacteria" she said would be in my mouth ... and even though Herself was sick, she went back to the Hospital to pick up antibiotics which she then put in my food twice a day. Boy, that really knocked me out. I just wanted to sleep all day long.

Herself was sick with 103+ temperature and making sounds that sounded like there is a humongous sea creature living with us. I've gotten use to the sound but she makes it over and over again. The two of us slept during the day and every now and then opened our eyes and looked at each other and said, "oh, you're there ... ok... but I'm going to close my eyes again and go back to sleep" silent conversation.

I felt I was taking care of Herself, you know, looking out for her and I know she was looking after me. We are a bit better today, but just a bit.

I would wait for you by the door, but you would probably find me sleeping on my bed instead.

I'll play with you soon ... just not today.

Lessons You Can Learn From Us Dogs

Our Way of Living Could be Yours

If only you humans had the heart of a dog, you would learn:

When you love someone, constantly tell them ... with licks (I mean kisses).

When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.

Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride.

Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy.

When it's in your best interest - practice obedience.

Let others know when they've invaded your space.

Take naps and stretch after rising.

Run, romp, and play daily.

Thrive on attention and let people touch you.

Avoid biting, when a simple growl will do.

On warm days, stop to lie on your back on the grass.

On hot days, drink lots of water and lay under a shady tree.

When you're happy, dance around and wag your entire body.

No matter how often you're scolded, don't buy into the guilt thing and pout, rather run right back and make friends again.

Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.

Eat with gusto and enthusiasm. Stop when you have had enough.

Always be loyal.

Never pretend to be something you're not.

If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.

When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by and nuzzle them gently.

And wait for them to come home, with anticipation and love, by the door (or, wherever.)

Don't You Just Love UnderDOGS?

Well, I've finally come down to Earth.

I've been floating around feeling so excited ... why you ask?

THE NEW YORK GIANTS WON THE SUPER BOWL. That's why!

Herself and I watched. We shouted, screamed, held our breath, panted, I hid my eyes with my paws when the Patriots scored ... and then the last goal by the Giants ... it was just so perfect. Not since 1991, way before I was even walking on all four paws on this earth, have they won a Super Bowl.

I tried to imagine me running up and down the field, I'm good holding balls in my mouth while running and I have excellent evasive moves, but then I thought about one of those guys tackling me ... ooffff!!! Splat!!!!! That would definitely be the end of me. No, I'm perfectly happy to sit on the sidelines and bark hooray and shake my tail vigorously.

Tuesday, our great City gave them the biggest ticker tape parade up Broadway, the Canyon of Heroes, with a snowstorm of confetti and paper raining down from the skyscrapers and a million people standing 5 deep.

It was thrilling. I just love it when the underDOG wins. Don't you??? It's like I feel when I confront a dog that weighs 20X more than me. "Don't mess with me" I bark, and usually they just look at little me dismissively ... but they don't mess with me.

Believe you are mighty and you are. Think you are BIG and you are. Act fierce and you are. Dream of being a winner, and you will be.

I'll wait for you by the door, while I dream of winning, and if necessary, how to be a good loser ... unlike Coach Belichick.

This Dog's Vote for President

I hear Herself talking politics all the time. She says she's a political junkie, whatever that is.

So, I've been thinking about who I should go in the booth and vote for. I do go in, you know, in the arms of Herself, while she pulls this and flips that and I usually agree with her choices.

But, this time, we are both undecided. So, I thought one way to decide who should get my vote is to figure out who would be a good President for dogs. This could be determined by them proving their love of dogs. I've never seen one of them photographed with a dog. Never! A little groveling would be good. They don't seem to take us seriously enough to go after our votes. I am a citizen, born in PA, most of my life living in the Silk Stocking district of New York, so I should be courted by each one of the candidates. Maybe even photographed being held and kissed ... ugh! now that I think of that, forget the kissing part. If I like the cut of their jib ... a little petting with do just fine.

I would ask them their position on whether they believe in dogs being "fixed" or having very large families. Or, whether there should be a National Day for Dogs. Then I would want to know their position on the use of the phrase: "He's a dirty dog". I mean really, get rid of that expression immediately. It's insulting to all us dogs, it's downright "Petist". I have lots of questions and, as of now, they are not being answered.

So, Herself and I am undecided. And that's the way it is at the moment subject to change, especially if some candidate or another is smart enough to come and hand me a treat then I'll give my vote, it's that easy ... a little bribe works wonders with me.

Right now, my candidate tee shirt reads, "Serious Dogs for ______?______"

'Till Election Day, I'll wait for them by the door.

Hi guys

When I met these guys and girls walking up Third Avenue today, they made my lips form a smile around the gap in my front teeth.

They all had their topknots wrapped in different colored thingies. Can't wait till my hair grows in and I can have my topknot back. I miss it. That AWFUL groomer took mine away when she chopped all my hair and created a dog with issues...Me.

Now when I look in the mirror, I really don't recognize myself. Who am I? Why am I here? What am I meant to do with my life? Where are the pet therapists when you need one?

I'm going to go home and lie by the door and think about the meaning of my life. And, wait for my hair to grow back, long and sexy.

We Can All Get Along, We Can, We Can!

Just look at this. 'Nuff said!

The New Year is Here

It is 2008. In just a few weeks, January 29th to be exact, I will be middle age. I'm not sure what that means, but I overheard Herself talking the other day when she was asked "how old is she", meaning me. "She's going to be 7", Herself said. "That means in human years, she will be 49 years old."

Whoa!

How did that happen so fast? I was just a slimmy little thing, squirming around with my sister and brother having just been born. And now, I'm going to be - 7???

Well, here's the thing. I am very healthy. I am very happy. I have lots of love from family and friends, (did I tell you my very best friend Graham is back from hanging out with Mickey M?) and I love my life. Couldn't ask for anything better than this. So, on this brand new year, I wish you everything I have in my life and then some.

Here we go into another year ... let's make it terrific and remember to be generous to others.

I'll still wait for you by the door and we can talk about our new year's resolutions. My #1 one is to find new ways to encourage Herself to give me more treats.