Dogs Get Lonely Too

Molly, who's a dog, and I have had some nice walks already. Rachel and family are away for a long weekend and I'm "dog sitting", in a sense since I'm home, only two blocks away, and drop in twice a day to take Molly out -- twice now to the beach and twice, no, three times, for walks in the neighborhood. She loves to walk, she loves to be off leash and run -- although she's getting old and stamina fades quicker than it used to. In dog years she's older than I am; I don't mind walking at her pace when she's enjoying the scents under bushes and on mailbox posts. She has a world in some ways richer than mine, at least olifactorily [did I just make up that word?]. Our walks are fairly long, it's beautiful weather and I enjoy them too.

I feel sad when I take her back to the house and say good-bye. "See you bright and early in the morning." I'm happy the cat chooses to stay in with Molly. The cat's getting older too but does spend the day outdoors usually. I'm sure Molly is lonely in that empty house. Once I would have shrugged and said, "but she's a dog." Can't argue there, but one can argue with the premise that loneliness is okay to impose on an animal that probably 80% of the time has a human on the premises. Well, but ... I have much to do at my home and animals are forbidden. If they weren't I'd bring her here. I may be getting softer hearted these days. Not a bad thing really.

Photo above taken following days when Molly and I walked in the woods, early in the morning when the shadows were too dark for a good portrait of Molly. Being a shepherd mix, during this walk where I was often behind her on the trail and out of sight, she regularly stopped to check that I was coming along as I should be before trotting on ahead to reconnoiter the path. Who's taking care of who?

Dogs!

This is about the "wisdom" of experience, in part. When I bought a digital camera I chose a small one that would fit into most purses I carry. I took it to the Empire Quilt Guild meeting yesterday but took no pictures. Today when I was going down to midtown to the main Post Office and to do a little shopping I took it out of my purse, although it was not heavy or in the way. And I thought: when I don't take it I always want it. Right!! So I left it on the table AGAINST my basic intuitive good sense.

You can guess the next plot point. After shopping I cut through the Hotel Pennsylvania lobby as I often do to go to a subway entrance. Usually in midday it is a quiet place but it was bustling. Why? I knew the moment I saw a gorgeous big white dog that I think wa a St. Bernard. Dog Show Week. Then I became aware that amongst the many people were many dogs, no two alike, all beautifully behaved, beautifully groomed, and being photographed by many people with complicated cameras. Of course, I had not even my tiny uncomplicated camera.






So nothing to do but wander around, ask owners, "what kind is that?" and say, "beautiful!' -- which was always true. A woman in the middle off the lobby, taking me for a "dog person," gave me a fat copy of the official booklet of the show and I have scanned pictures from it, which are better, possibly -- probably -- than I would have taken. On the right is a Weimaraner names Norbu -- a Sherpa name which seems a little odd for a dog of German background. In the center is a whippet which had no name attached. It undoubtedly looks much like the prize-winner whippett that escaped its cage at JFK before flying home last year and may still be alive and free somewhere in Queens -- the police get siting calls every so often. And the lovely standard poodle on the left is the cover girl of the booklet, Ch. Brighton Minimoto. I don't know why European dog breeds are given Asian names ... I know very little about the world of pure bred dogs. The booklet has lots of information so I may know more after I look through it more thoroughly.

This story has two morals: 1. take the camera! [I'd have loved to show you-all that big white dog that first caught my eye] and 2. New York is a city full of wonders, surprises and delights. Even a mundane trip to the post office may offer up something unexpected and beautiful.