Archive for the ‘dogs that dance’ Category
Today would have been Woofie’s birthday. He was the black miniature poodle we had when I was growing up. Here he is as a puppy:
Here he is letting it all hang out:
And here he is by the dishwasher:
I’d already moved to New York when he died (he was 17) but for years when I’d come back to CA to visit my parents I would think I heard him running down the hall. I miss him.
But don’t be too sad because five years later my parents got this guy!
But maybe you need to see what he looked like as a puppy?
But wait there’s also:
My mom often talks about how Tobey gives her a guilt trip when she’s trying to leave the house without him and I often think she’s projecting/imagining because how can a dog give you a guilt trip? Then I take it one step further and think about how I grew up hearing that as an infant I demanded to be included in everything and had my parents wrapped around my little finger, which was exceedingly little as you can imagine. My parents were big on reading all those Dr. Spock child psych/behavior books, since this was the seventies (which is funny since I’m only 21) and so the way I’d spin my baby web was when they went to sleep I’d use my inexplicable baby strength to fashion a kind of hoist with my blanket and then I’d use a pop up toy to launch myself over the crib wall. Then I’d land safely, magically, and log roll into the family room where the books were kept. Sometimes I’d skateboard. Then I just shimmied up the wall like a mouse or spider or go-go dancer, grabbed the books and opened them up to “Ages 0 to 6 mos.” and changed all the prose to, “Do whatever your baby wants.” It was pretty easy, or, as my sister and I used to say in third grade, cinchy.
So I guess what I’m trying to say is when I hear volition being attributed to creatures who haven’t yet mastered walking upright (speaking of, when is Tobey going to do that? He’s already 3!), I’m skeptical.
But then yesterday I tried to leave the house without him and he really did look up at me as if to say, “We’re pals, we go everywhere together, you’re taking me with you, right?” I explained that this wasn’t the case at which point he sighed heavily, slammed the door and dyed his fur hot pink. Then he tied up the phone for what had to be hours. I’m trying my damnedest not to give into it but it’s difficult since he hid my keys and is now sleeping in my bed. (He’s letting me use his furry dog bed. He’s not heartless.) I’ve adjusted to the collar pretty well but the food is killing me. Hard, dry, pellet-type things which reek of some unidentifiable meat smell for breakfast, lunch and dinner. If I’m lucky someone will throw me a scrap of something that isn’t kibble. When it gets too much I sneak into the bathroom and pull Kleenexes from the trash. I can’t help it, they’re delicious.
So I’m back in New York after six intense weeks of Marvin care and I have so many things to say it’s making it hard for me to say anything. This is a hazard when you’re a blogger who is known for sharing the details of your life. Also when you’re known for being achingly beautiful. I’m telling you, spending nights in the hospital did my complexion no favors. And that delicious hospital cafeteria food went straight to my hips. I think I should make a list of things I need to tell you:
1) I trust you’re all coming to see me Thursday in News Distillery at the 92Y. Here’s a story about Faith Salie that mentions it if you want more info which you probably do because you’re so like that.
2) I’m really proud of the ARIYNBF shows I put on in CA and I’m glad I did that even though at times it was hard.
3) Perhaps you’re reading this and you’re new to me and you’re wondering what I’m talking about.
4) Soon I will be able to speak about it, I think, but for now I have to be all vague and elliptical but here’s what you can know: one of my family members whom I’ve named “Marvin” was just diagnosed with something no one wants and so I’ve been helping out.
5) Not crabs, though no one wants them.
6) Or Jordan almonds.
7) Before the Mad Men premiere I kept wanting to write a list of “Mad Men inspired drinking games by someone who doesn’t watch Mad Men and doesn’t understand drinking games.” That person isn’t me, of course, since I watch Mad Men and love to drink till I puke.
It would be a persona. A device. A trope, if you will.
9) You won’t.
10) By the way, I don’t actually love to drink till I puke. In fact I seldom drink these days which is all part of the way I don’t have fun and am letting life pass me by.
11) woe = me
12) I’m actually tired of the Goldenrod Footbridge. Can you believe it?
13) In the past going home to CA was taking a break however a few days before I returned to New York it was suggested to me that I should return if for no other reason than I clearly needed a break and needed to get strong again before coming back to CA. This idea that New York is now the place I go when I need a break is doing all sorts of funky things in my head.
14) Specifically it’s doing the electric slide.
15) “A Marvin being sick marks the true end of childhood,” said a therapist.
16) Or maybe she said, “A Marvin being sick truly marks the end of childhood.”
17) Well, you get the point.
17.5) Not MY therapist! What use would I have for therapy? My brain is perfection and my emotions are a thing of beauty and my thoughts conform to the Platonic ideal of thoughts and my feelings are so appropriate you only WISH you had my feelings.
18) It’s hot in New York. I kind of hate that.
19) True Blood is now my favorite distraction and I’m sad I’m all caught up.
20) Also? I’ve been cheating on Splenda with Truvia. Just a little though.
21) I miss Tobey.
22) Congrats to Natali Del Conte on the birth of her baby boy!
23) Thank you all for the encouraging words you’ve sent my way.
There are loads of photos that have been sitting on my phone or computer that I’ve been meaning to put on this blog and I think the time is now.
Here’s my mom and Tobey from when I was in California for Thanksgiving. Isn’t he cute? There is only one answer.
Here’s the beach. Isn’t it beachy? There is only one answer. Read the rest of this entry »
If you only watch one clip, please watch this bit of hard-hitting journalism. Also: man alive I’m loud!
Clip won’t play? Watch here.
Here’s Tobey on my mom’s lap in Brooklyn. We were at a cafe called Provence en Boite. Tobey affected a French accent which is so like him.
Today is someone’s birthday. He is small, white and fluffy, afraid of balloons and today he is two years old although he doesn’t look a day over 1.
Here’s a cute video of him as a puppy.
And here are more photos: