So New York is actual puppy heaven you guys! There have been many, many contenders for zee blog. Two Great Danes eating sticks in the big dog park. A tiny fluffball the size of my palm at Coney Island. Endless Frenchies downtown.
But no pooch with as much class as Miss Brooklyn. To my delight, when we locked eyes she ran right over to me because (as her papa Alonzo explained) she’s such a little lady she doesn’t need a lead.
Between the morsels of pork BBQ and the band playing and all the plants in the garden centre, Miss Brooklyn was a busy little dog-o. This was the only photo where she wasn’t all a blur with anticipation and puppy excitement. But she had time to clamber up my handbag for a pat, and to give me a kiss goodbye on the cheek before she left. What a woman.
Remember the third time you went to the beach, Betty?
You were still learning what a ball was for and how much endless joy it could bestow upon your tiny puppy brains. Sand was a miraculous haven from the rapey cavoodle called Barney (no joke). And after about 20 minutes of watching us swim, you flopped down on my towel and gave up on being a puppy, content to be a rag doll for the rest of the day.
Oh Betty, from the big smoke over here in the east, Grant Street beach feels like a long way away. But I’ll be back soon.
In the meantime, stay away from that Barney, you hear?
Christmas day 2013. Three hot dinners into our scheduled six events in two days. I trailed after boyfriend to another family bash. Chatting to the fun cousins over a glass of champagne, I heard scratching at the back door. Safi. A pinscher cross jack russell with alopecia.
You know what a fat little pinscher cross jack russell with alopecia looks like? A pig. A little pink pig with giant freckles and a dog head.
Likes: squirming out of my lap. ham. turkey.
Dislikes: being outside when everyone is inside. getting cold. getting sunburnt.
Safi = best.
Hi piglets! Great news - today my boss bought me a puppy! Well, officially he lent her to the whole agency for the afternoon. Roxy is only 8 months old but she’s got a lot going on. In between playing hide and seek behind the velvet chairs, she was busy bounding like a bambi, getting excited and barking her silly little puppy ‘no one is taking me seriously’ bark and squishing her soft little face between my side and my arm so she could keep an eye on any new tissues in the bin she might like to nibble on. And let me know she loves and needs me. Obvs. Look I’m not saying that my boss should give me Roxy permanently, but it kinda seems like the polite thing to do, don’t you think? It’s been a tough week for redheads, after all.
"Wull hawdy ther guuys. Mah name’s Mooseh. Ahm a Great Dayne. That means ahm biyg. Ah don feeel biyg. Bud ah guess ahyam."
Moosey has an accent from the deep south. Well he would, if he could talk. He really doesn’t need to talk though, because his mama Jules talks for him. Jules is about as tall as Moose, looks like a blonde doll and has the most creative, dirty and wonderful brain you ever did meet. Maybe she got poor ol’ Moose’s brains too. Moose is a bit low on things. Like balls. Moose only ever had one ball. But now they’re both gone. On the day we hung out he’d just had his lone ball removed, so he was even more sookie and cute (in a giant way) than normal. Oh Moosey.
In China the kewl kids have dogs which look like tiny furry dragons. I don’t think these dragony little breeds are even available in Australia. These two little ragamuffins lived in a hostel in Beijing. Their preferred activities were sleeping in the courtyard, chasing leaves and biting each other’s brains out through their eyeballs. Obama (the black one. obvs.) bit Hu Jintao (the yellowy one. yep.) so hard that he grew a cyst on his eye while we were there. It’s tough being an adorable puppy in Beijing, you guys.
RIP Matty. One of my top three small, white, fluffy puppies in all the lands. May you endlessly bound by rivers, cuddle in laps and eat pork belly x
It’s been too long between drinks. There have been plenty of dogs but love? Love is hard to find, my canine-canoodling friends. And then there was Roo. Roo is 3 months old. She likes sugary coffee and eating boyfriend’s beard. She does not like to walk down stairs. Up stairs yes, down stairs no.
Her nose must be the envy of pooches everywhere. I imagine them taking photos of her to their rhinoplasty surgeons. But there ain’t no faking the softness of her belly. Oil of Olay eat ya heart out.
Avion is the kind of kid who is growing up in a surf town somewhere down south in WA. The kind of kid who might be a little rascal now, but will probably grow up to be a pro surfer or own a winery. He’s the kind of kid who, upon seeing you eat an icecream out of a cone asks “are you a kid?”. And you say yes. His dog Chica is a kelpie. She’s the kind of dog who buries bones in other people’s gardens. My mornings won’t be the same without these two making a ruckus in the garden before 7am. ‘Til next time Avion & Chica x