This week I am writing my blog while parked in my car in New York City. Our dog, Cornell, and I are waiting for my sister to get home from work to do a bedroom makeover. Since we could not find a park bench, which seems so wrong in Manhattan, we are sitting in our car with the windows down. He is people/dog watching and I am blogging.
As I watch him watch others I giggle to myself because sometimes I really do believe I can read his mind. Other dogs owners no doubt understand. Unless a treat is involved-- I believe Cornell speaks with a Scottish accent that is slow and deliberate. It has an Eeyore-esque quality about it.
We actually share a lot of the same traits. He’s more kind than intelligent, never met a stranger he didn’t like, does just about anything for a treat and enjoys the stuffing out of a good nap. We both love schedule, can’t miss a meal and like a few ice cubes in our water. We feel it is our responsibility to comfort someone when they are sad. Cornell and I both strut when we get a good grooming and hide when we don’t. We both love, love, love our friends, family and cherish our walks.
Yes we do. Each morning before Cornell can inhale his breakfast I pour myself a cup of coffee. We head out on our morning walk to meet up with our neighborhood friends. Not long ago these “friends” used to be strangers to the both of us, but now we can’t think of a better way to start our day! The dogs share treats, tall grass, sticks and sniffs while the humans chat about EVERYTHING else.
Actually, the friends, family and walks are all true but not sure about all that other stuff. No, this isn’t Allison. It’s me, Cornell. Yeah, that’s right—thought you would like to hear my side of the story. My Mom is good but gets so easily sidetracked while writing. First, why do you call this the Big Apple when I haven’t seen a single apple anywhere. And I actually think my Aunt concocted this redo idea just to help my mom stay busy while she deals with this empty nest thing people keep asking her about. Honestly, maybe she just needs a swift kick in the bahookie (that’s Scottish for tush). First they pushed the bed I was lying on and everything else into the middle of room, which looked hideous. Next those two spent an hour or so sticking bright blue tape all over the room in a very uncreative fashion. Finally they stood precariously upon very tall ladders painting the walls from sage green to a lavender white. Here is a picture of me very hard at work—supervising which led me to coorie doon (that’s Scottish for nestling down to sleep)!
I can tell you this, New York City walks are very different from our quiet country walks. They are filled with dogs for miles, horns beeping, bustling crosswalks, so many speeding and dangerous yellow cars and bits of food on the sidewalk. It seems New Yorkers are more resistant to my charm due to the lack of attention I received—oh well, their loss! There is very little soft grass which baffled me, until I saw a fellow canine use the concrete—ah maybe that is why they call this place the concrete jungle?
Early one morning my mom and I ventured to Central Park and boy was that a treat. Smells, trees and grass galore. Tunnels to meander through, bridges to prance across and countless bikers and joggers to avoid! I could have stayed for hours but noooo, we had to get back to move all the furniture pretty much right back to where it was when we arrived. At least they removed all that blue tape I told them looked grannda (Scottish for ugly)! Honestly we could have just snuggled instead of all this fuss!
Well, we (Yes, we!!) finished in three days flat. For our drive home they bought iced coffees for themselves and a water for me. As we navigated through the Lincoln Tunnel (never saw Abraham either), I was hoping my brother and sister would be waiting for me when I got there. I ran inside and the house was empty and very, very silent. Guess this empty nest thing is a bigger deal than I had first thought.
Moral: If you help another while keeping yourself busy, it really is a win-win!
With love,
Cornell and Allison