Since we moved to NYC our dog goes to doggy day care. For $40 a day, she is picked up at 8.30 a.m and dropped back around 4pm. Seems ludicrous to anyone living outside this city but after a month of apartment living peppered with constant doggy toilet breaks, it had to be done. What I don’t need though, is the blow by blow account of her day the doggy carer gives me at every drop off. Or he did until I stopped him. New Yorkers take dog-loving to extremes and expect full daily reports from their dog walkers/carers.
Of course, New Yorkers love dogs only as long as they fit in to their canine idiosyncrasies. Cue the amount of teeny-weeny teacup varieties around the place. Sadly, not all pups are adored. I was stopped in my tracks on Saturday by the Pet Adoption Truck. An RV full of saintly ladies who set up a stall on Broadway to find mummies and daddies for their load of New York-style puppy-rejects. Yapping, snorfling (noise only small pug-gish dogs can make) with weepy eyes and bottoms, the puppies, not the ladies, cried for attention in their tiny baskets. New York style because they are all breeds I have only seen here. Cock-a-poos, Sharpei, miniatures, teacup Yorkies, a heartbreaking sight if you are a dog lover. A bit weird if you are not. It was very hard not to just scoop up a load and shove them in my bag, none of the pups were bigger than a guinea pig.
Later on that day I helped a woman with a beast that was half dog, half trolley up the steps in Central Park. Her dog either had no back legs or they were folded beneath it in a sort of harness on wheels. A strange sight, but a day-to-day one here. Ditto dog in a pushchair, mad, blind little white dog that falls over all the time, dog drinking from a baby’s bottle and of course, dog in a handbag. All of these live on my block by the way, and belong to the sort of New Yorkers who call everyone else in the world crazy!