I read all the celebrity rags — and I certainly hope they read me — because today I am throwing a HUGE scoop their way.
It’s not an actual story, but it is the must-have tool to getting those major headlines they so highly covet.
It’s a dog.
I have discovered that, if Rory is with me, or if I am discussing him with another dog owner, they are willing to spill all kinds of personal information at the drop of the hat. I don’t have to ask; I don’t have to care; I don’t even have to want to know.
It just pours out of them. It’s like they have no control.
Take this morning, for instance. My dog Rory and I were returning from our morning walk in Central Park with my sister who is visiting from Oregon. We stopped to chat on the street with a woman who was walking her maltese/poodle mix puppy.
The conversation began innocently enough — what kind of dogs, how old, names, etc. And then it started. Her former dog was a poodle who lived to be 17 years old…before it drowned in her pool…and she’s living with the guilt.
Oh. My. God. Who tells that kind of story…to anyone, let alone a total stranger on the street??
Or there’s the lady on the airplane who, when we were swapping dog owner stories mid-flight, suddenly asked for my advice on the best time to dump her live-in boyfriend — before or after the holidays?
(Perhaps crate training gives me a unique perspective.)
Celebrity press, take note. Paparazzi, paws to consider. Reporters with dogs on leash will get far juicer stories from the famous people you ‘hound’ on a daily basis.
Woof.
