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.

A Christmas Eve Tail with Himself and a Maltese

I couldn't sleep. May have been my lack of exercise yesterday. Or, watching Herself and AuntJ's attempts to put together the new computer ... I donno! But I couldn't sleep, which is remarkable in and of itself.

So, I jumped down from my bed ... don't ask how ... and walked into the Living Room where ... there ... I found ... HIM!. I knew instantly who he was ... NOBODY else would wear that outfit, although I did see a dog walking around with a similar outfit just the other day. He was looking around for what was left for him to eat ... but I don't think Herself thought he would stop by 14A this year and didn't leave milk and cookies or even a glass of water. I noticed he was making note of that against Herself's name in his book ... ah oh!

"Oh! Mystical!" he said. "Glad to see you! Of course, you can't tell anyone that you saw me here. HO HO HO! That's funny. You can't tell anyone ... you're a dog!." His tummy bounced around as he laughed. "Haven't seen you since I got notice that you were here living in New York City as a little pup. You haven't grown much ... not like me, huh?"

I asked him how many gifts he leaves for my group ... dogs. "Oh! lots. Every year I get letters from their owners asking for lots of things for their dogs and yes, cats, too. Can't forget them. Although when I come across a cat on my travels on Christmas Eve, they usual look at me from the top of a piece of furniture with not much interest. I wink at them as I leave and sometimes ... just sometimes ... they purr a note of appreciation. But very little talk."

Tell me Santa, I asked, which one of us do you prefer? Dogs or cats?

"Oh! listen Mystical, I love all of God's four legged creatures a whole bunch, although I must admit, I have a soft spot for my reindeers.

I know what a good dog you've been all year and I want you to know that that I've noticed and have a star next to your name in my book here." And then, he turned the book around for me to see the great big gold star right there next to the name "Mystical, the New York Dog".

Wow! I licked his hand and said "Oh gosh, Santa, thanks a whole lot for showing me".

"Now, said Santa, I have to be off to my other stops, but I suggest you don't tell anyone that I have given you a gold star ... that, he said, would be boasting. I've noticed that you have a very good opinion of yourself ... must come from all that loving you get ... makes you feel omnipotent."

"Huh??? Omni-what???" I tilted my head back and forth ... which is what I do when I really don't know what you are talking about. Santa uses such big words ... doesn't he realize I'm a dog?
You would think he could talk dog to me ... being Santa and all.

"Humility! That's what I think you should show this next year. Otherwise, Mystical, you're almost perfect." He put his finger besides his nose, and laughed HO, HO, HO, Merry Christmas to you.

He gathered his big black bag, swung it over his shoulder, turned and gave me a wink and walked out the front door (no fireplace you see). I heard him clump up the stairs to the roof where his sled and Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen and my fav. Rudolf were waiting.

I ran to the window and put my paws up on the windowsill and listened ... and then, yes, I heard him say as he drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night."

I went back to bed with visions of fuji apples dancing in my head and contemplating the joys of gold stars next to my name.

Merry Christmas to all of you. And a wonderful New Year filled with treats, pats, tummy rubs and lots of love and companionship.

And a special happy New Year to my friends on the 14th floor, both 2 and 4-legged ones.

"HO HO WOOF, WOOF."

This Groomer Should Be Run Out of Town

As a dog, an animal, when I hurt, I usually go off in a corner and lick my wound till it feels better.

BUT ... two weeks ago, Herself took me to the Groomer we've been to before. Now, you know from my earlier posts that grooming is not high up on my list of favs. But, I had no choice but to go with Herself and AuntJ, who was also there with me.

I don't know how to explain the torture I went through except to say when Herself came to pick me up I cried for a whole day. Actually, I was crying out from down deep inside of me. I couldn't catch my breath. I think my body was in shock with pain. I heard her call the Groomer and say "What happened? Why is Mystical in such a state?"

I've tried to communicate to Herself what happened by crying out but she couldn't possibly know until ... that is ... last night when I was given a bath. You know I have long white flowing hair, like most Mateses and my skin couldn't be seen until wet. There on my rump were red blotches that looked like puncher marks. I heard Herself take a big intake of air and say "Oh my God, what is this? "

Hey, Mom ... I sort of don't know what it is but I sure felt it. Now you can see why my whole body and spirit were so traumatized. She took me out of the bath and wrapped me in a big blanket and oh so gently carried me to where she dried me. And since last night she's been kissing me like crazy and gently petting me. (I sure like that!)

We dogs can whimper or even cry out, but normally when we are really hurt we just hope it stops and we can go back to the way we were. Of course, we also look to our humans to help make it better.

Actually, I think if Herself could have bopped that Groomer on the head she would have. I don't know what she is thinking of doing, I just want the whole memory to go away ... fade away into my 4000 year old ancestral memory bank.

I love everyday of my life ... except for that one day.

I will never forget that day,

that street,

that groomer,

or that pain.

I'll wait for you by the door while I try to put something much more pleasant in my mind.

Share Your Dog With Others

Frieda, my friend and neighbor, who lives down the hall from me and Herself, put this NewYorker cartoon under our door the other day.

This woman was chastising her cat for being "entirely too friendly with the Hendricksons". The cat was obviously feeling her displeasure.

Frieda wrote under the cartoon, that she was pleased that Herself freely shared me with one and all.

What's with that? Of course, I should be shared with my friends. I love them all. I get a charge being around them. I'm crazy about Herself ... but I like hanging with my friends too. They're all different. They smell different. They sound different. They tickle me differently. All that makes for my very interesting world.

I was thinking the other day that my world is very small. When I watch TV, I can see that there are millions of humans out there ... in the streets, in the ballpark, even in the White House shouting questions at the Prez ... by the way ... why does his head go back and forth like that??? ... I get a crick in my neck following him.

Anyway ... I want to meet as many humans as I can and then come back home and think about them.

So, I thank Frieda, my dear friend. Thank you for thinking of me and knowing that I love meeting you in our hallway and playing with you. It makes my day.

Nap time. All this dictating is tiring.

Met Another Maltese Devotee

Was out and about with Herself (my Mom) and AuntJ yesterday, and met a really nice man. It all started with him talking about me (nothing new about that) but then the interesting stuff happened.

He and his wife also have a Maltese, just about my size (4 1/2 lbs) named Gypsy, with similar personality quirks like mine. By the way, there must be a story behind that name, don't you think?

Gypsy wasn't there ... I would have loved to have seen her and checked her out with a few quick sniffs ... but I learned that she loves cars, like me, loves airplanes too. I've never been on an airplane ... so I don't know if I would love it ... that remains for me to experience. I love my routines, but new experiences are luxurious too. Apparently Gypsy doesn't talk as much as I do, but she is insistent on her food arriving promptly. Smart dog!

I really do think this life I have is just wonderful. I am a happy dog. I'm rarely mad or prone to growl. If I growl, you better look at that human and form an impression that he or she is someone to avoid in your life. I have this inner sense about a lot of things and am rarely wrong.
Trust me.

So, this inner sense of mine tells me, without meeting Gypsy, that I think I would enjoy her and we could share stories about our travels. For example, I could tell her of the first day I met Herself when I was a puppy, and on our trip home from Philadelphia, I peed on her lap. :-)

Time for a nap. I'll take it by the door in case a certain Gypsy sashays by.

Rocko, my Neighbor, and I Share a Birthday

Actually, the same month, January, and the same year (that's for us to know).

I keep hearing that girl dogs should shave off a few years ... and I'm thinking about it.

But then I say to myself, "Self, aren't you proud of your age ... all you've been through, all you've seen?"

How many years would I take off, one, three, five???? Can't do ten cause then I would disappear ... poof!

No, I think Rocko and I should be happy with our age and the wisdom it brings. I don't even know if he thinks about it or me for that matter. He goes charging down hall right past me sometimes. Maybe the next time, I'll stick my paw out and trip him. Then again, maybe not.

I'm going to wait for you by the door and ponder this age-business. By the way, what's this thing cats have about nine lives? Huh?

I Met a Dog on the Street

I know it was a dog, because I barked. But, this dog was such a tiny little thing - that I could have saved my breath.

Twitter, is his name. Actually, his name is longer than he is. He's half my size in pounds ... that's right ... Twitter is 2 LBS small. He's 2 years old so there won't be more to him.

I must admit he's cute. A little brown French Poodle. I felt L A R G E next him. Which, at my size, is a totally new feeling for me.

I have noticed in my travels through life, that my species comes in all sizes and all colors and all shapes and all personalities. I'm more of an observer of life. I watch everything. Then I think about what I've seen and make a judgement ... all in a split second. For example, when I met up with Twitter, I got a maternal feeling about him (that is after I issued one loud bark, first). I could see myself picking him up by the scruff of his neck and carrying him in my mouth, if his little legs got tired and he couldn't make it home. Believe me, this is a very unusual feeling for me ... I'm usually in a constant state of extreme readiness to warn every 4-legged creature not to mess with me ... because of my size. But not with Twitter. He did have his human with him and she seemed very attentive ... but just between us dogs, I think he had a hard time keeping up with her.

He has a brother called ... wait for this ... Blackberry. Cute names both of them but awfully nerdy, don't you think?

I'm gonna go wait for you by the door and think about Twitter and make up other cute dog names ... how about ... iPup?

Well ... It's About Time!

We four legged creatures have been loving humans forever.

We calm them when they're crazed, we jump with joy when they're happy, we lick their boo boos, we stay clear of them when they are angry, (not at us of course...but something else entirely). We wait patiently, or in my case impatiently, till they come home and then we leap into their arms thrilled to see them. We allow them to play with us, and we listen when they're telling us of their day. We let them dress us up in something we would never put on ourselves much less pay money for. This, and much much more, we've been doing for CENTURIES.

So, when the United States Postal Service (a government agency of some reputation) finally acknowledges us and those of us who want to be adopted, and put our faces on stamps that will travel all around the world ... I say, GREAT.

Yes, I know there are cats on the stamps as well. But I'm an equal-opportunity creature and believe that they too, should be recognized, and I'm told they do as much for their humans as we dogs do. But they're more ... self-important. Not ever being a cat, I don't know what goes on their heads, but hey ... it's a big world.

How about one of those Swedish awards, the Nobel Prize for Dog, or the Best Dog Oscar, or the Congressional Dog metal. I know they give out metals to dogs that are rescue dogs, they deserve a chest full of metals, but how about us at home dogs ... we do a lot too, it's just that the media doesn't pick up everything we do do.

Still, I'm thrilled that the Government has put their stamp of approval on us and what we do for our human families and I'm going to lie by the door and wait for you so we can exchange stories about our contributions to their well being.

And hey, go out there, if you need to be rescued, and look adorable and find a terrific human family like I have. Don't get down ... be positive and when some human comes along and looks at you, go up to them and let them know that you're loving and would make a terrific companion ... and speak to them telepathically "Take me home" with a comehither look. If you see a smile on their face you'll know you've gotten through to them. Pack you bags ...

When you're as happy as I am, it will show on your face ... so when it's time for a stamp with your picture, you will look precious, fetching and loved.

New Dog in Town

OK! Here's the thing. I'm a reasonably friendly Maltese. BUT!!! My territory is my territory. The 14th floor of my home on the UES of New York is becoming the dog run in Central Park.

I was the sole star on my floor. Everyone came to me for licks and tailwagging. Some even sat down on the floor and rubbed that special place just above my tail. AHHHHH!!!

Then ... along came ROCKO. The Boston Terrier. Lumbering up and down the hall to his apartment. I know he's there. We tolerate each other. (Actually, between you and me, I find him fascinating.)

But, now I have to come to a place of peace, because "my" Rachel, my next door neighbor, who grew up with me, has gotten her own ......................................... dog.

Roxie, the Norfolk Terrier.

I was introduced to her while she was penned up in the kitchen (she's a puppy, you understand, and puppies are 'uncontrollable' little things).

I was heartbroken.

I cried.

Rachel, my pal, went and got something with four legs like me to fawn over. It's too much!

Herself and I had some talks about sharing, acceptance and the one she seemed to stress, tolerance. But, it's all gone over my head. I'm a dog. Don't except me to be a saint.

I'll have to think about this. I'll wait by the door in case you come and want to philosophize more about sainthood.

Why can't it just be like it was?

I'll deal with it. I'm adaptable.

I'm the adult around here.

But, I sure hope they remember to respect their elders.

This Maltese is a Better Dog Than I

This Maltese at the Westminister Show this week, is a more patient, image-obsessed, and goal-oriented dog than I am. I would never sit or stand there and let that happen to me.

Of course, there are times, like now, when it is obvious that I'm in need of some clipping and shaping. But seeing as I hate to go to the groomer (or Spa, as Herself now calls it ... thinking I don't know the difference between the two words) Herself has put it off.

But, a visit is coming soon and I'm not looking forward to it. I'm delighted when it's over and I get out of there and breath the fresh New York City air walking back home. I begin to relax.

I'm all Girl but I don't get all bent out of shape about hairdressing and nail clipping. It's just hearing Herself say things like "You look like a fright" or "It's time to pay a visit to the Spa" that I know I must gather my inner core together and do it.

OK! Let's get it over with!

Meanwhile, I'll wait by the door and compose myself by silently doing a mantra: "I will enjoy it", "I will enjoy it", I will enjoy it", until I convince myself. NOT!

What's With Some of These Humans???

There was Lexie, waiting patiently for her human mommy to come out of the store and along came some creep and what did he (or maybe she) do???????

Oh No! A human mugged Lexie.

Robbed her of her coat. Can you beat it? It's cold, snow as high as I am on the ground, and unless it was another dog who mugged Lexie, what in heavens name could a human do with her coat?

I don't know about these humans ... some of them are just plain fresh. But, some, like Herself and AuntJ and some of my other human friends and family are WONDERFUL. They would never steal my coat ... why would they?

Well, Lexie, if you want to come over to my house, with your Mom, and sit around in the warmth and maybe run down the hall with me and let out your frustrations, come on over. I'll wait for you by the door.

It's Just the Way We Dogs Are

I glanced over Herself's shoulder, and watched this terrific woman in New York and her love for dogs and I smiled all day. It's true what this video says: If we trust you, we love you forever.

Herself knows everything about me. I've kept nothing back. I've shared it all with her. And even those little, itsy bitsy things that I thought I'd keep to myself ... I eventually told her. How? you ask. Well, I look into her eyes and we talk. Then I walk away and smile to myself.

Anyway, I'll go over and wait for you by the door ... meanwhile click here and watch this wonderful story of this New Yorker and the love given and love received.

What Does This Dog Think About???

"What?" Herself asks me.

In other words, what do I want or what am I thinking of?

I just know she's wondering to herself, what's going on in that dog's head.

Well ... I'll tell you ... some of it. Not all ... a girl should always be a little mysterious.

I think pretty much like you do. Even when I'm sleeping ... I'm dreaming ... and in color. Mostly I'm running after some four-legged creature ... or, if it's a nightmare, it's running after me. That's usually why I'm so tired in the morning and have to sleep in ... too much running around during the night.

As to daytime thoughts ... well in my house, which is Herself's house, when I'm not thinking of eating, or playing ... I think BIG thoughts.

Like ... what is Rocko, the Boston Terrier neighbor of mine, doing? I have to admit, I am fascinated with him. Don't know why. We're completely opposite. He's a rake, brawny and strong. I am delicate, sophisticated and a thinker. I don't think Rocko has deep thoughts ... ever. He's not concerned with the economy or global warming or emails saying it's all a big con, or the poll numbers of Barack or Sarah or Nancy. I just know he's not having those thoughts. He doesn't listen to 60's R&R, (although I must admit, sometimes I leave the room when Herself has that playing) Rocko probably listens to Jay Z (which would explain a lot).

I run down the hallway, like Rita Haywood flipping her air in "Gilda". He comes charging down the hallway like a mini-truck. We're completely different ... so why ... why? ... why am I still thinking about him?

Maybe that's what I'm mulling over when Herself looks at me and says "What???" "What's going on in that mind of yours?"

I'll wait for you by the door ... Christmas is coming ... I'm gonna lay here and think about that.

Vets Are Better Docs Than Docs for Humans

He called! Can't get over it.

My Vet, Doctor Bob, just called Herself to ask how I am. Having him check in from afar and not having to go to his office ... that worked out perfectly for me. I heard Herself say when she got off the phone, "When does my Doctor call me to ask how I am? Never", she responded to her own question.

But Doctor Bob called me. Does that make me real important? You bet. How come dog docs are more attentive than human ones???

I heard Herself say ... "Well, her eye is open wide, but it is still red around the outside". Then she said a lot of Oh's and Ok's. Sounded good to me.

And, just between you and me ... I feel a lot better. My eye doesn't hurt .... AND ... I don't have to wear that stupid collar any more.

AND ... I can now go back to be my sweet, adorable self again and not be as cranky as I've been since this happened.

So, I'm hanging by the door, waiting for you ... with both eyes open wide.

This Maltese Has A Corneal Ulcer.

I have an ulcer.

I always thought one got ulcers from stress. I live in New York City where 'stress' is normal ... like breathing. Do you know how stressful it is to walk down the street, to avoid icky things on the sidewalk, 4-legged monsters coming toward you, humans wanting to touch you, saying things like, "Oh, how adooorable you are". Puleese! I know I'm adorable, but I don't know you ... and just between you and me, you're not so adorable.

Sorry about that. I'm really cranky, 'cause I don't feel well.

Well, it's not that kind of ulcer. Actually, it is something on my right eye. I don't know how it got there but I sure wish it would hurry up and go away.

We, Herself, AuntJ and me ... I?... me? ... I don't know which word to use, human English is not my first language ... anyway, we went to the Vet on Thursday, at the end of the day.

First let me say this about going to the Vet ... I HATE IT!!!!

I DON'T LIKE IT ONE BIT!!!!

I WISH I WERE ANYWHERE ELSE ON THE WHOLE PLANET THAN AT THE VETS!!!!

But, Herself said "we must go, your eye is all red and you keep closing it to a little slit". Well, of course, I kept it closed ... it hurts.

Just between you and me ... we animals don't let on that we are injured or hurting in some way, because in the jungle, you don't want another animal, bigger than you, to know that you are vulnerable, so ... NO CRYING!!!! Otherwise, you'll be eaten. So, mantenga la vostra bocca chiusa.
(Hint: shut up.)

I was not cooperative. If I could have flown ... I would have flown out of there with my wings flapping ... but not being a bird and without wings and Herself, AuntJ, Robert the Vet, and his assistant all holding me ... I was completely at their mercy. (By the way, it took all of them to hold one 4lb little Maltese). Big deal, right? Sorry, I'm still cranky.

He dropped things in my eyes, three different things ... then he pronounced, "She has an ulcer on her eye" and showed everyone in the room my eye's inner sanctum, using a purple light thingie. Gee, I wonder if they were able to see into my soul? Hope not, that's a private part of me.

OK ... so I have to get medicine in my eye four times a day and pain medication once a day for a week. I have to wear a stupid, uncomfortable collar to keep me from rubbing my eye. One thing's for sure, Vogue won't be photographing me for the next cover ... with this gross thing on. Anne Wintour ... don't bother to call!

I'll let you know how things go ... I'm sleeping more ... because of this really swell medicine ... but I can't wait till I feel my usual, adorable self - sans ulcer.

So, I'm sorry but I won't be waiting by the door for you for a few days. But the very first day I feel better ... you can bet I'll be there, anticipating your arrival - seeing clearly into the future.

Meeting a Great Dane and other LARGE Dogs

I am MIGHTY. My personality is HUGH. There are other dogs bigger than I am ... actually ... almost every single dog in the New York is bigger than I am. Like this guy to your right. Don't be swayed by his "sweet" look in this photo ... he could kill me.

Still ... I don't care how BIG he is.

"Huh!" you say. "What are you talking about? You're teeny tiny, 4lbs soaking wet" (now that's a sight you may not want to see). OK, I know all those things, after all it's my body ... I can twist around and do things to myself that no Great Dane can do, but that doesn't mean in my mind's eye and in my heart of hearts, I don't think of myself as BIG and MIGHTY.

What's the big deal ... what can a Great Dane do? Take fewer steps walking down the street than I have to, stand taller and see things almost like a human rather than see lots of feet and wheels and things from my level, (although the interesting smells are closer to my nose than his), all the while getting some degree of respect solely because he's BIG.

Well, I'm BIG, too.

When I'm out and about, and a Great Dane's walking down the street towards me, instantly he hears from me. I bark in his face, I tell him, "don't even think about looking at me with that look ... I know you can eat me with one bite, but I'm going to play mind games with you and make you think that approaching me or my human ... might be a really bad idea".

And ... every single time ... they simply look away and continue lumbering down the street. I am MIGHTY. Every dog in my neighborhood knows not to mess with Mystical. I think they've spread the word, bark by bark, uptown and down, Eastside and West.

I'm alfa dog ... hear me roar!!!!

I'll wait for you by the door, while I dream about conquering all of dogdom.

The Cousins Came to Town

This was a day that I want to remember when I dream, instead of chasing dogs or even worse, being chased. It was a day that stands out from the others. You know most of my days are pretty ordinary. I get up, eat, play, sit with Herself while she works, go out, come back, sometimes work on my blog, eat and then insist that Herself goes to sleep ... because I CAN'T SLEEP UNLESS SHE IS SLEEPING.

But, yesterday, was really special. I want to write it down, so that I can come back and read it and remember it all and smile.

Herself's and AuntJ's cousins came to town ... all the way from ... Newfoundland. Now, honestly, I didn't know any other place other than York, Pa, where I was born, and big, wonderful Manhattan, where I live. Oh, yes and various other little day-trip places that I go with Herself. But lately, I've been hearing Herself talk about her cousins from Newfoundland. I should Google map it, after I finish writing this posting, and see where it is. Maybe I'll even zoom in from the satellite to see it ... that's so much fun. ZOOOOM!!!!!!

Anyway ... there they were, Lorraine and her two daughters, Wendy and Jeannie. I knew right away that I was going to love them. They were swell! I wanted to be on my best behavior you know, so I was very quiet at first. Especially in church. Yeh! we all went to Church after all it was Sunday. You know, I love the music, and I'm in my bag humming away with the choir but otherwise being very quiet.

We had a wonderful day in my neighborhood of the Upper East Side ... I'll tell you more after my nap.

Here I go, curled around myself by the door, taking a few winks ... later, guys!

Dogs Love Easter Egg Contests, Too!

Gosh! I sure wish I was there with these guys. They are having so much fun.



After all that hiding, running, climbing and finding you must be pooped. So, come on over and hang out with me ... I'll wait for you by the door.

This Maltese's Suggestion of a Stimulus Bill

I listen. I listen when the TV and radio is on, and when Herself talks, either to someone else or just out loud to herself. Actually, the 'out loud to herself ' comments are the most interesting. She forgets I'm listening.

I'm hearing so much talk about a "stimulus bill". Can't figure out what is being stimulated ... or whether anything will be stimulated but I know what all those politicians can do to stimulate and give immediate relief.

Get your dog to lie down and ............................... stimulate his or her tummy with those fabulous circular movements. The dog will feel great (I know from personal experience) and you, the human, will feel good too.

I bet, that will be the most successful stimulus plan offered. $1,000,000,000,000 saved. And it would cost absolutely nothing. Hey, I wouldn't mind if Herself gave me a trillion tummy massages ... but she better get started.

I'll wait for you by the door contemplating all that stimuli.

Mystical's New Years Resolutions

Well ... I've taken some time to decide on my new year resolutions. It hasn't been easy. I've never done resolutions before. I've heard Herself talk about resolutions but then, I never heard about them again until the next year.

But, I'm different. When I decide something ... like, I want to play or I want to go to bed ... I don't stop until I get what I want. So, resolutions are the same thing ... decide something and then get it done.

The thing is, I wanted to add one resolution to the list that I knew I would DEFINITELY get done ... an easy one if you would. See if you can guess, which one on my list that is.

Mystical's Resolutions:

1. I will be less demanding of Herself when she is busy working. No whining, no begging, no pushing, no insistence. Just leave her alone. Lie down and wait.

2. I will agree to go to the dentist. I've heard horror stories about dentists but I think I need to go ... I even know that without hearing Herself say it.

3. I will make two new friends this year. I must grow my human social network. As it is, it is a fearlessly loyal and devoted one but I would like to make more human friends this year. Maybe I'll think about going on Facebook, or put a video of me on Youtube, looking adorable, doing something really amazing. Maybe some tweets.

4. I'll try not to run around in circles when I'm excited ... it makes me dizzy.

5. I'll be more open to eating new types of apples. My preference has always been Fuji apples. But I will broaden my taste buds by asking Herself to buy all kinds.

Whew!!! That's a lot of resolutions. Were you able to pick out the "easy" one?

I hope we all manage to do at least some of our resolutions but if not, don't be hard on yourself ... there's always next year.

I'll wait for you be the door.

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.