Unlike most chihuahuas, she’s friendly. Very friendly. Small. Happy. Talented. She garners unwarranted amounts of attention which bounces off her to me. As her voice, I graciously accept all compliments and answer the many inquiries as to age, weight, size, sex, etc. Usually I tell people her affinity for pigeon chasing, poop consumtion and arm humping. This makes people happy. As happy as Paquita. Occasionally, I fend off empty plastic bags, paper, leaves, etc. that blow her way by stomping on them and thwarting their attack. She is deathly afraid of objects hurtling in her general direction. Her eyes bug out, all four legs splayed…the brakes are full on! This makes me laugh. Laugh and laugh and I’m happy, too.
Today was no different. It was a breezy midday stroll with lots of blowing objects to destroy, sun shining, everything perfect, when some guy starts charging at us with his finger pointed like a gun. With a thick accent he declares, “BANG! I shoot her with my gun! BANG! BANG!” He was dead serious. The “guy” was a wee, 80-something, wrinkled, maybe 5′ 3″ Greek man. Now how do you respond to that? I warned, “You watch out! She’ll take your arm off!” Then I did my best imitation of a rabid pit bull. “ARRR WOOF! GGGGGRRRRRRR!” This made me laugh. Laugh and laugh. I guess he doesn’t like dogs. Weirdo.
Shopping in SoHo and the East Village and strolling through Tompkins Square Park yesterday, I had an “only in New York” kind of day. Tompkins Square is home to the first and one of the best dog runs in the City. It also has the added bonus of having a separate dog run for dogs under 20 pounds for which Paquita qualifies. There we saw the ho-hum average gathering of Hari Krishnas *booo-rrriiiing* and the rantings of a yet another homeless schizophrenic *yawn*. Also on view is the Public Art Fund’s installation of a large fiberglass sculpture of a dog straddling a puddle of water in which people toss change hoping that this time their wish really will come true. When making wishes, one should make sure it’s in conjunction with faux dog urine. Two bums were trying to convince the young man standing guard over the sculpture that they had accidentally dropped their change in the water. Clever–dem bums is always thinkin’. Then there was the gathering of five adult “goth” girls practicing their baton twirling. To quote Beevis & Butthead, “Uuhh-okay.”
Ooooooh weeeeee! It’s hotter’n a goat’s butt in a pepper patch! It’s Cah-Razy H*O*T! Some wild animal encounters had me thinking the heat has gone to their brains. First, a wee tiny little mouse barely inching along the sidewalk. I turned back and approached it to see if it would scurry along. It didn’t. Bless his heart–I’m sure he’s dead. Second, a cute-as-a-mouse **oops** a cute-as-a-baby’s-bottom Maltese wandering along 33rd Street with his leash trailing behind him. He looked absolutely confused. Why? Well, I had just passed his master walking two pooches identical to this one.
How this man didn’t realize he’d left one of his pack behind just baffles me. Two young men carrying their laundry loads witnessed the abandonment. I grabbed the leash and hooked it on to a metal post so the little fella wouldn’t wander into the nearby intersection his owner had just crossed. One guy went after the dog walker while the other stood guard over the dumbfounded doggie. That’s when the dog got upset. Imagine yourself hooked to a fence, your master getting further and further away and a strange man with a giant load of clothes staring back at you. I bet you’d howl and scream like this little guy did. Poor baby.
Third, a fat black cat pouncing on top of an awning one story off the ground. Hmmm…okay…just where does he think he’s going? I hear very strange pigeon noises coming from above the awning. Not the typical coos. Ah, the cat senses easy prey, but there’s no where for the cat to go. Or, so I thought. In a flash, this cat managed to climb a fire escape ladder and the wall and was out of sight in no time. That pigeon didn’t stand a chance–Spiderman lives.