This Maltese is NOT HAPPY!!!

Hey!  What are you guys doing?  You're crawling all over my apartment building here in New York City, making noise, making dirt, making a complete nuisense of yourselves.  Go away!  Take your tools, and dirt and GO AWAY!

I heard one of them telling Herself, that it will get worst before it gets better.  Huh????  Does that make sense to you.  Why make it worse at all?

I know when I make a mess ... which NEVER happens, but let's just say it does, Herself doesn't say much ... just a "Mystical, what did you do?"  kind of comment, but it isn't like this, day after day, noise after noise, strangers moving all around my running track, the hallway.  What do I care if they are "redoing" the hallways.  Us four-legged creatures that live on this floor, are perfectly happy with the way it looks (and smells).  Everything will be different.  I don't like change.  I like consistency - whatever that means. To me, it means, everything just they way I left it.

Don't mess with something that works.  Leave it alone.  Oh, I don't know ... maybe it will be alright ... I'll let you know when the mess is all over with.

I'll be by the door, thinking about how silly humans are ... doing things they don't have to do ... because ... well, I don't know why!

Are All Dogs Artists?

Me? I do my Matisse impression ... small swirls ... in a concentrated area.

Two Broken Legs and He Returned Home

Mason crawled home with two broken legs after being thrown high into the air by a tornado that ripped through Alabama.

Can you imagine the love and spirit Mason had to make it home from God knows how far away with TWO BROKEN LEGS.

He's a terrier mix ... I'm a terrier too, a Maltese terrier ... but I don't know if I could have done that. As much as I love Herself and AuntJ, to be thrown up in the air and tossed around and dumped down somewhere in the middle of total craziness and have pain in my two front legs and say to myself "I have to get home ... somehow."

And then he crawled ... crawled home. How could he recognize his house. Where did it go? But, he sniffed around and knew he was home ... so he lied down in the wreckage of his home and waited ... in terrible pain.

And then,

Mason's family came back looking once again for him ... and they found each other.

Read my lips ... I'm so happy you found Mason. I'm so happy you survived. I'm so happy you're here to teach us all that love is everything, nothing is more important than Love.

Hey Mason, I want to be your friend. You are my hero. Boy, what a dog!

I'm Proud to Be An American Maltese

Yesterday, a really bad human, Osama "somebody or other" was killed by my terrific American soldiers.

Now, I'm not into killing - I'm a lover. Why, I would lick you so much you would have to go an get a BIG towel to dry off ... that's my way of showing you how I feel about you. But you know, I had already moved here to New York City from the country in Pennsylvania as a little teeny tiny puppy, when that terrible day happened, September 11, 2001. (Okay, so now you know how old I am. I'm in my first double digit.)

I remember Herself, with her hand up to her mouth, watching as something horrible was happening on the TV. She was crying. She was on the phone with AuntJ. I knew it was a really sad day.

I heard her say this morning that the bad man who planned and ordered everything that happened that day, was killed by Americans in uniforms of the United States of America. All I can bark is: yippee!

I'm going to go lie by the door and wait for you and think about how much I love being an American Maltese. I've told you in the past, that I was born in Pennsylvania ... I don't know if I have a long or short form birth certificate ... but I do know I squiggled out of my mom, China was her name, along with my sister and brother. I quickly looked around and saw I was born in the USA, and fell back to sleep with a smile on my face.

AH! The Wind Between One's Ears

Faster! Faster! Faster! Faster! Faaaaaaaster!

ROCKO, the Macho Dog

Down my hallway on the 14th floor, lives Rocko. Now ... that's a dog!

I find him absolutely intriguing. He's definitely "a guy". His testosterone flows every time he runs past me, hardly looking at me ... basically wishing I would simply move out of the way.

Me, on the other hand like his strong, silent type-way of going through life. I don't like wispy boy dogs. I know, if I ever needed help, Rocko would come to my rescue. And whoever was attacking me would flee in terror. Such a guy!

Here's the thing, I just know that Rocko has a heart filled with love. Why? Because I know he is loved by his humans, Nicole and Andrew and he returns that love is so many ways. His big eyes looks at them and he says to himself ... I'm one lucky Boston Terrier. He's one of those guys, that you think is really strong and tough, but then you also find a heart of gold. You know, those guys who are rare. VERY rare! That's Rocko!

My most favorite thing about Rocko is he's a soccer player. He leaps, with his big blue beach ball, high in the air, having the time of his life. And he loves that all the humans around laugh and giggle watching him leap, run and score. SCOOORRRE!!!!!

Rocko, I really dig you. I'll wait for you by the door wondering how I would look bouncing a ball off my head. Maybe one day ... a game ... together?

THIS DOG IS GOING TO HARVARD

I didn't apply. They called, emailed ... contacted me ... again!

Last year we couldn't coordinate our schedules ... I was busy ... they were busy. This year I'll make sure I'm not busy.

They want to learn things from me. Boy, could I tell them a few things!

I'm going because lots of humans (including Herself) seem to think it's a honor to 'get a diploma from Harvard'.

OK! Fine with me.

So, sometime in the Spring ... off we'll go to Cambridge, MA. I'll bring my smarts with me (better bring all of them) but don't think I don't know that it will be difficult ... I do ... but I'm going to keep my thoughts to myself, hopefully. Oh no! They want to figure out my thoughts.

I'll brush up before I go. Hey, anyone know if there's a SAT for dogs? Maybe a DAT? a Dog Assessment Test. How about a tutor? Is there a Tutor out there who can help prevent me from being embarrassed at Harvard?? Or God forbid, flunk!

I'll wait for you by the door while I practice saying "Hah vahd!" over and over. "Hahhhhh vahd"

HEY, GIRLFRIEND!

Roxie, my next door neighbor, here on the Upper East Side, is a blast.

Everyday, I look forward to getting out in our playpen (the hallway, on the floor we live on). Sometimes, I can hardly wait. We call each other. No, silly ... not on iPhones or Blackberries, but with vocal cords. We exchange information like ... "yea, me too, but I'm stuck here until someone opens this darn door", or ... "maybe after my nap" or ... "how you doing, girl"?

Then the doors swing open. And we run out into a melange of bounces and half-runs and chatter. "So good to see you again", I say. She answers, "it's about time, don't you think?"

I've ask her where she gets all her energy, she replied, "it's youth, girlfriend"! I secretly think, yah yah, it's all those treats you get.

She runs down the length of the hallway after her ball ... an interesting looking thing with holes in it. I guess that's to grab it with her teeth wrapped into the holes so she could get a real good grip on it. I've seen her human Mom, Cindy, grab the ball and lift Roxie off the floor while she holds on to it with all her might. It's really funny watching that routine.

One day I'll tell you about my plaything ... that I've had all my entire life ... that NO ONE, better even think about throwing away because it's awful looking. IT'S MINE! Hands and paws off!

Now, you know, I had a somewhat hard time coming to grips with Roxie's arrival on MY 14th Floor. I've written here about that swarm of feelings and the conversations Herself had with me about sharing, and tolerance. Sharing I kinda get. But that tolerance thing ... I couldn't figure that out at all. But the other day, I heard Herself say to me ... "You're a very good girl, Mystical".
Yah, I know that, I thought to myself, so what else is new? She continued. "I see you're making room in your life for Roxie, and I like seeing that", she said.

What Herself doesn't get yet is that I like Roxie ... a lot. She's cool. She's pretty. And I like her personality. And we have a lot in common. We're both adorable, small creatures with four legs and award-winning personalities. It really has nothing to do with tolerance. Nope. Nada!

So I guess you'll be hearing more about Roxie, as I go through my life here in NYC with Herself, AuntJ and others I feel compelled to write about.

As for the other dog on our Floor, ROCKO! He gets his own posting. He's full of testoterone, that guy! How he 'tolerates' us girls on the Floor ... I donno!

I'll wait for you by the 'closed' door while I think about how much I'm going to say about Rocko and get away with it. One thing I will say now is ... he's really loved by his humans, that's for sure.