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starring a small fraction of the approximately 1 million dogs in New York City
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2008
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April
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- horizontal stripes: the exception that proves the ...
- gaby schwartz
- squirmy shiba inu puppy
- big al and mugsy
- dinkums
- cocktail hour, lower Fifth Avenue
- how come that bald puppy gets to ride in the strol...
- hairy yellow nursemaid
- speaking of working dogs
- two scrawny brothers
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April
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1 comment:
Egads, this reminds me of a governess I had back when I was still in short trousers and oxfords. Devil of a woman. Quite a dog all around if I recall. She’d give you horrors if you looked at her; her bark was in no way better than her bite; and she was a ripe old bitch. Nanny would rap me across the knuckles if I had soiled my shirt digging up worms in the ha ha and should I not recite the Plantagenet line in correct succession she would send me off to the garret nursery with a cup of tea but neither jam nor scone. This one was a replacement for a more tender hearted young nanny whose pockets were full of treats and who sang the sweetest lullabies and read all of Kipling’s just-so stories in special voices and had actually been born in India and had not only seen elephants but once had had a small monkey on a chain as a pet. That nanny tucked me in one night but when I woke the next morning all ready to see her bearing a tray piled high with boiled eggs and soldiers, this sour faced witch was there instead, shoving a mug of oatmeal on the table. Why I was being punished for Father’s sneaking off to the den with nice nanny after dinner each night I could not comprehend. Right ho! all this talk of this blasted hairy faced governess is making a ruin of my appetite. Perhaps I’ll just take a nip of claret before retiring to the snooker room with my Montecristo. Oh rather, ask cook for a tray of her fine mock turtle soup and some of last night’s cold roast and Yorkshire pudding. And then the claret. And a few plover eggs, too, if possible.
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