Tony! Tony! Tony!

Border terrier Tony (here, hot and bothered, and not too willingly being posed by his promoter-owner) has his own website www.tonysez.com and blog and career, apparently, but is not, just to avoid confusion, a member of the naff New Jack Swing group of the 80s known as Tony! Toni! Toné. Just FYI.

Rocky

Certain dog owners are very concerned that you correctly identify their pet's sex. The Muttropolitan Diarist's mother is one of these people. Once upon a time said mother owned two English bulldogs, both female. Perhaps because of their blocky, butch aspect these dogs were often identified by strangers as male. This perturbed the Diarist's mother enough that she went out and bought two bright pink colors (for the dogs, not herself). The bulldogs in question really did not appear to give a crap about the gender-reassignment-by-stranger issue but wore the collars nonetheless and were, thenceforce, more often than not identified as ladies, not gents and the Diarist's mother, it is assumed, rested easy for reasons that remain elusive to the Diarist. (Years later the Diarist encountered a bulldog wearing a pink collar selected, her owner explained, for the very same reason.)

Pit bull toddler Rocky's owner likewise took umbrage when the Muttropolitan Diarist asked how old "she" is. "He's a boy," the owner said.
"Oh, he's so cute. What's his name?"
"Rocky. He's a boy." OKAY I GOT IT. HE'S A BOY.

Binky

a.k.a. Binks, is a very sweet-tempered lady of a certain age. Part maybe Beagle, possibly Golden? Her equally charming owner Phillip plugged his friend's site, Urbanhound.com which is full of practical information for dog owners. The Muttropolitan Diarist does not know from practical information; the Muttropolitan Diarist supplies only canine eye candy, all of it for free.

Alexia

ooh fuzzy wuzzy three month old Bernese Mountain puppy with gloop in her eyes

Angelica Rose

A runt to some, this doted-upon Welsh Terrier is her owner's "bundle of joy".

more proof of the epidemic

I would like to line up all the English bulldogs in Manhattan named Lola and see if they stretch the entire length of Broadway. (Then I would also like to still all traffic so we could hear them panting in their trademark stuffed-up way.)

But clearly this chap could not be happier with his little dewy eyed Lola. Because obviously, she is one of a kind.

Meet Miss Pickles

Muttropolitan Diarist: "What kind of dog is Pickles?"
Owner: "Part beagle, part pig."

Oh, I see.

Apparently many people assume Pickles is a boy because, according to the owner "Pickles is a boy's name." Who knew? Nine year-old Pickles is rather shy on the street, and quite skittish (she's a rescue dog) but doesn't hold back when it comes to eating whatever she can find on the sidewalk. "I should have named her Kirby," the owner said. "After the vacuum cleaner."

Shredder

The Diarist didn't get a chance to ask if this dog really does shred (that is to say, snowboard). Or maybe he's just really into averting identity theft?

small, iced coffee

The owner's pose, explained: after having been on her cellphone for a while, she did a quick check to insure that her little companion was still there.

Sparky, as in spark plug, perhaps

The Muttropolitan Diarist has a special fondness for mutts that look like purebreds who have been in a terrible accident. Sparky is a Golden Retriever-Basset Hound mix but looks an awful lot like a Golden who has undergone a leg-ectomy. Before he briefly consented to pose, Sparky would not, would not stop barking at a neatly coiffed black Standard Poodle passing by. The owner explained Sparky generally doesn't have a problem with his fellow canines but "he hates that dog. When I saw that poodle had gotten a new haircut, I thought maybe Sparky wouldn't recognize him but, no, he's still barking." Sparky's owner wasn't remotely interested in the M.D.'s mundane observation that dogs tend to recognize each other based on scent rather than hairdo. "He can't stand him," she said, as she and Sparky headed east.

Argentine Dogos

The Muttropolitan Diarist is not making some casually racist Argentine joke by putting an "os" on the end of "dog" -- this is an actual breed (a new one on M.D.). These beefy, extroverted, and extremely barky beauties are, from left to right, Sisqo and Bianca.

Crammed in sling, mutt makes displeasure known

I assumed this mesh snugli contained a dog—right up until the point I reached out my hand and almost had it taken off . Perhaps Cheechee is not a dog at all but, in a slight departure from the Ridley Scott-style alien which emerges from a human's stomach and then goes roaming about, looking for prey, is the sort of alien that stays close to the nest.

Rrrrr.

Sweet Melissa

It is very hard to resist a baby French Bulldog.




Clearly, many people feel the same way.

Little dog, big cone

Tiny Chloe, marveling at the fact that come Pinkberry, come recession, such storied, vile native eateries as Papaya King manage to endure.

Grump grump grumpy

Brussels Griffons are very friendly but have the most fetchingly cranky mugs.

Named not for a peach or a state down south, sweet little black-and-tan Georgia comes from a very tony family where dogs (e.g. Magritte and Jasper) are routinely named for famous artists.

Tied up and desperate

lab puppy in the west village.

Whole lotta dog, in Corona, Queens

Beautiful, strong, and a little scary, seven month-olds Thor (left) and Danger (right) are a lot to handle.

Best dog name of the week

Tied up outside Snice, in the West Village, a perfectly sane-seeming dog named Dementia.

this is Jack

who was hot and tired and needed to lie down for a little bit.