Look, I'm not going to sugar coat this...I love living in New York City.  As a dog, where else can you go and suddenly there's a mound of rice on the ground?  See, I'm originally from the suburbs of New Jersey, where the most you'll find is a wrapper that someone recently wiped their mouth on.  My name is Willie and I'm a bichon, which means I'm hypoallergenic and look like I'm always wearing a fleece jumpsuit.  I keep pretty quiet, unless I want something, like the usual stuff, which I won't bore you with.  I mean, look, I could sit here and tell you about always wanting food and going to bathroom, or we could get down to brass tacks.
    The truth is, I have a great life.  I'm very lucky.  I have two wonderful owners who adore me.  They're kinda nutty, in a harmless way.  She's extremely clumsy and often puts her clothes on backwards.  And he's halfway nuts.  Always making voices and dancing like a lunatic.  Sometimes I'm surprised they find their way home when they take me for a walk around the block.  But, look, they're great and I can't complain.
    I also have a best friend, a Flat-Coated Retriever named Bones, and he's just the best.  Seriously, if we ever got in an altercation with some pugs or a wolf, he's the one that I'd want on my side, hands down.  Not that he's a fighter, mind you, just an imposing presence, which counts for something in this world.  He belongs to these great folks who live upstairs.  They give me treats and hang out with us and take us on walks to Riverside Park.  They cook a lot, but thankfully they aren't as clumsy as my owners, who, I can't stress enough, are like Ringling Brothers clowns.
    So in this blog I'll be telling you about my goings on, my fantasies, and even have guest writers from time to time.  I can't vouch for the quality of their communication skills, but it will at least be interesting to get another perspective on things.
    In case you don't know it, it's cold in New York right now.  Not necessarily for me, but my owners seem extremely distressed when we go out and seem to want me to expel on command, which we both know is impossible.

    I should mention that we live in a one-room studio, which is almost like I'm renting out this giant dog-house to my owners.  But from what I've overheard in our lobby "this is what life in Manhattan is like these days, what with the rent and the economy being the way they are."  I love hanging out in the lobby of our building.  Watching people, hearing what they say.  One time this woman looked out the window across Amsterdam Avenue and said "I didn't care for the Matzo-ball soup over there."  She was talking about a pizza parlor.  I love this woman, although I don't think she knows what to make of me.  I should say that I like pretty girls.  I always let them pet me and say sweet things.  They're voices always seem to go very high.  In fact, I've noticed, the prettier they are, the higher their voices go.  Weird.  I show my appreciation with wild tail wags and this sort of head down, ears down thing I do.  Adorable.
    Well, I have to go for my mid-day walk.  I have a fairly good memory for what food is lying around out there at the moment.  A pile of Cheerios on 89th street, a chicken bone on 90th and Broadway.  I'll try to get to them before my owner sees them.  I ate a Tootsie Roll wrapper last night, which I realize is not food, but is a Tootsie roll? 
    Till next time. xo
 


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