Go Ahead, Make Fun of Me

As you may know, several weeks ago, spiceboy and I purchased a puppy. We named her Betty (Betty Spice to some loyal blog readers).

She looks like this:















With the exception of a couple of unfortunate pooping accidents (Betty's, not mine) and some late-night howling (Betty's, not spiceboy's--though both are terrible insomniacs), the three of us get along rather well. We play fetch. We play tug of war. And let's not forget the most favorite puppy game of all time: Chase the foot. Betty has proven an enthusiastic participant in all of these events. In fact, as far as puppies go, she's pretty great. She's lively and alert without being noisy. She follows through with most fetching attempts, even at her young age. And she even kinda comes when we call her.

So of course the logical thing to do with such an adorable and agreeable pup is to take her out and about in Manhattan so she can spread a little bit of her Betty joy everywhere she goes, right?

Wrong.

The only major bummer about Betty at this point in time is that she's not allowed on the streets of New York. Not for a walk. Not for a pee. Not for a quick jaunt to the dog park. No, no, and no. As a matter of fact, until she's fully immunized in August, she's basically housebound. Which is a total bummer.

Unless...

I have to be honest: I never thought, in my whole entire life, that I would do something like this. I grew up in the country, okay? In BEAVER COUNTY, Pennsylvania, for crying out loud. I had chickens and ducks and roosters and rabbits and a big ol' collie dog named Lassie. I spent my days organizing mud fights with the neighborhood kids and building leaky dams in the creek (or, as we say in BEAVER COUNTY, "up the crick.").

Back in BEAVER COUNTY, people don't even put their dogs on leashes, okay? Because back in BEAVER COUNTY, no one ever worries that their precious dog will contract a heinous disesase and die if they take it outside and put it on the ground.

I mean, dogs are supposed to be outside! And if this is the only way I can expose my precious puppy to the great outdoors for the next month and half, then so be it.

That said, I'm not sure I can ever show my face in Beaver County again.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go walk my dog.