Tag Archives: dog walks

Something’s a’foot

Last month Jennifer Aniston’s 15-year old Welsh Corgi-terrier mix, Norman, died of old age.

The two were often photographed together walking, and she always took him with her to set on long movie shoots.

“He’s just a person in a dog suit,” she once said.

I get that.

This week the tabloids were full of the news that Jennifer got her first tattoo.  What did it say?  Was it new boyfriend Justin Theroux’s name?  Or some mid-life crisis bit of philosophy in Chinese characters?

None of the above.  The ink on her right foot simply says “Norman.”

Now, I’ve never even remotely considered getting a tat.  I’m notoriously commitment — and needle — phobic, and permanent body art requires both.

But a tattoo dedicated to my dog Rory?  Perhaps his name in the simple sans serif font that I favor?  Or a tiny artist rendering of his amazingly expressive face?

Oh yes, I could commit to that.

Non sequitur

Look at who Rory and I encountered during our lunch walk yesterday in the neighborhood:

“Three Nuns and a Baby”

I can’t think of the last time I have seen a nun in a formal habit.  (Conversely, I see babies being pushed in strollers all the time.)

It reminded me of that 1987 movie Three Men and a Baby — remember it?

Tom Selleck, Ted Danson, and Steve Guttenberg played roommates in New York City. While Ted Danson’s character is out of the country,  an old girlfriend leaves a baby at their door that she says is his, and the other two guys are forced to take care of her.

At first, the baby totally disrupts their lives, blah blah blah, but by the time the mother returns to take her back, all three men are in love with her.   She and Ted end up getting back together, and they are one big happy family.

It was kinda cute, as I recall.

Bet the nun version would be way funnier.

Being neighborly

After a damp and dreary weekend, Rory Dog and I enjoyed a long walk in Central Park this morning.

As we were making the final turn toward home, we passed the Subway shoppe on Columbus Avenue and 84th. Its bright decor caught my eye, a contrast to the earthier tones employed by the coffee shop, barber shop, nail salon and grocery store on that block.

It seemed cheerier and more welcoming.

Funny…I’m not sure it’s getting the same reception from the neighbors.

You see, Subway used to be one block away at Columbus and 83rd.  When it closed its doors, I heard the locals rejoice…like a crack palace had finally been shut down.

Chain restaurants get that kinda treatment around here.

Remember Fox Books in the movie You’ve Got Mail? Big, bad Fox Books moved in the Upper West Side, and people picketed in outrage.  Eventually local store The Shoppe Around the Corner had to close.

David didn’t defeat Goliath in that story.  (But Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks got together..so that was nice.)

When Subway reopened its doors less than a year later just a couple of blocks up the street, folks weren’t too happy.

Me?   I think the chain restaurants that are successful tend to be successful because they have a good product.  So we shouldn’t poo poo them because they are doing something right.

No one in the neighborhood seems to mind the 10 Starbucks.

That’s right — 10.

Sight unseen

The New York City Marathon is tomorrow.

Runners from across the globe have descended upon the city.  Central Park is no doubt choked with folks, doing their pre-race laps.  And come tomorrow, hoards of people will be lining the course to watch.

I just don’t get it.

Not the running part — I understand how, once you commit to running, the endorphins kick in, you get addicted, and running becomes a lifestyle.  I ran short distances for a couple of years, but I didn’t have the knees to keep going.

That’s cool; dog walks are plenty for me.

No, what I don’t get is watching marathons.  Standing on the side of the road as the runners go by.  It hardly seems like a spectator sport at all.  I mean, people run everyday.  The only difference here is the number of people gathered at one time in one place.

I know a lot of people watch the runners cross the finish line as a show of support to friends; I get that.  But to stand and watch runner after runner after runner?

I just don’t get it.

Perhaps it isn’t that different from watching Indy cars race around the track for 500 laps.  There is even a similar danger of crashing at both events.

Who am I kidding?  I still don’t get it.

That’s sick

When did you first realize you were an adult?

Was it your first car?  Your first job?  That first house payment or marriage or baby?

For me, I’m always reminded I’m an adult when I’m sick.  No matter how lousy I feel, I still have to get out of bed — and make it up, because I’m my mother’s daughter — and take my dog Rory for a walk.  Because dogs have to go outside and do their business, even when you feel like poop.

If I were a kid, and not an adult, someone else would take care of such things.

The side benefit of this responsibility is that the fresh air usually makes me feel a bit better. And getting up for Rory’s walk means I not only feed the dog but myself as well.  If it weren’t for this adult routine, I might skip breakfast altogether, which wouldn’t do much to improve my health.

I also get a chance to get a few things done in the morning when I still have some energy.  Let’s face it — when you’ve got a cold, you start to drag as the day wears on.

Of course, I have that evening walk a’comin’ to perk me right up!

(When can I take DayQuil again…?)

Rainy days

It’s raining, so I must be flying somewhere.

That a bit whiny, I know.

I’ve never been one to mind the rain or let the rain affect my mood.  In fact, I’ve always liked rainy days.  Rory sleeps in a bit longer, and he doesn’t like to walk in the rain like a Golden Retriever or Lab might.  That gives me some extra time in the morning that I don’t normally have to get things done.

It’s a win-win.

But on travel days, rain just kinda mucks up the works.

It’s harder to hail a cab…’cause even the locals don’t want to walk on rainy days.  When I get to the airport, it’s filled with other slightly damp, even-more-rushed-than-usual people trying to get through security to their gate.

And once they are through?

Well, they’ll probably sit and wait because the rain will more often than not delay their flight.  And then they’re grouchy and mouthy with the poor gate agents.  It’s not pretty to watch.

Man, this is a fun blog entry. Clearly, the rain doesn’t affect my mood at all…except maybe on travel days.

Come on, sun!

Together wherever

David Letterman began his monologue last night this joke:

You know it’s springtime in Manhattan…when the carjackers break in through your sunroof.

Funny, sure.  But cracks like that are one of the reasons people can’t imagine living in New York City…especially if they have kids.

Now, I don’t have kids.  But I do have a dog that I walk in Central Park pretty much every morning.  And on weekdays, I see moms and dads with their kids, walking or riding scooters or bikes.

Mom and Dad are dressed for work.  The kids are decked out for school.  And they are together in this beautiful park, talking and spending time before work and school begins.

It seems like a pretty nice way to start the day.

Out in the country where I grew up, kids either took the bus or walked to school.  There was no need for our parents to go with us; we lived in the middle of nowhere.  Nothing much happened, including crime.

I know the kids in Manhattan are walked, scooted and/or rode to school by their parents because it’s not considered safe to be out on their own.  But I think the time spent together as a family is a pretty nice trade.

Plus, they get to live in the greatest city in the world.

Seen, not heard

I spend a lot of time on airplanes, which means I spend a lot of time listening to the sound of screaming children.

I’ve always said that discipline — or lack there of — is revealed in tight spaces.

(Some parents also don’t seem to know to give their infants a bottle at take-off and landing to relieve the pressure in their ears.  We really need to get that trick out there.)

I was reminded of all those crying babies this morning in Central Park.  There really weren’t that many children out that early — just lots and lots of dog parents and their kids.

A lack of discipline run amuck.

Because of the heavy snow, the powers that be in Central Park opened the Great Lawn, and the dogs and their humans were taking full advantage.  I’ve never seen so many packed in one spot at one time.

And while dogs don’t scream, their people certainly do.  Scream their names.  Scream “Come” (with little effect).  Just scream.  And let’s face it — if you don’t spend the first few months of your dog’s life training them, you spend years just screaming at them.

And your dog gets branded as ‘bad.’  How unfair is that?

So, whether your child is human, or of  the canine variety, do them and the world a favor.  Teach them some rules…and then stick to them.

It will make for a happier planet (and hopefully, a tad quieter one, too).

Puppy planner

How do people without dogs organize their days?

I’ll admit, I’ve quite forgotten.

As most of you know, my dog Rory has been in the hospital since Monday morning.  (He’s coming home later today.)  I knew his being away would be weird for me — the house seems empty when he’s at the groomer for three hours — but I never imagined how profoundly his absence would change my days.

For starters, I can’t get up in the morning.  Rory is my alarm clock.  I find myself falling back to sleep…and I usually pop right out of bed.  Yesterday, noises in the hallway finally jarred me awake at 9:00am!

Nice one, Carla.

I also forget to eat meals without Rory here to remind me.  I work from home and, without his very regularly scheduled head bumps on my leg at noon and five o’clock, I end up eating two or three hours late…or not at all.  And I don’t get my regular walks in Central Park or around the neighborhood, either.

It’s true what they say — dogs do keep you healthy.

And bedtime just isn’t the same without Rory Dog around to ‘bark me in.’  (I never seem to move fast enough for him, so he is always ‘encouraging me’ to move it along.)  Last night I found a dozen mindless chores to occupy my time, and didn’t lie down until almost two o’clock in the morning (which may also explain why I overslept).

Rory loves his routine, and his routine has become mine.

And apparently, I need his daily supervision to stick to it.