The Dogs of NYC

Call me obsessed. It’s OK. You won’t hurt my feelings. I admit it. I actively sought out dogs as a way to cope with being a rural, mountain girl in a big city during my recent biz trip to NYC. Meet one of my city-dog friends.

Traveler Ho!

My flight from Denver to NYC started out OK. Due to weather in the East, passengers learned right away that our flight would be delayed a half hour or so. Not too bad. I can entertain myself at Denver International Airport with snacks and free wi-fi.

Then, things went sideways. After allowing us to board the plane and settle in, we sat around for a while, waiting to push off from the gate. No biggie. I simply knitted on a sweater for the arrival soon of my great niece #4.

The flight crew then announced that we’d all have to get back off the plane because we weren’t going anywhere for at least 2-3 more hours.

Fine! I went to get lunch. (FYI — there is no wi-fi signal in the back part of Pour La France on the B concourse at DIA.)

I snarfed down lunch then sat back at the gate and got local tips from native New Yorkers.

Our flight did indeed leave about the time predicted, and I arrived in NYC 3 – 3 1/2 hours later than expected. Through the magic of Facebook, I had been able to alert my hotel roommate and my dinner date to the delay.

I’m so thankful I paid more for a direct flight. Otherwise, goodness knows where I could have been stranded at connecting airport … it wasn’t just my flight that went wonky. Airplane traffic all over the East Coast was a mess that day due to weather.

You’re Not From Around Here, Are You?

So, I get my silly self out to the curb to catch a taxi into Manhattan. When another woman rolls her suitcase up behind me, I turned slightly and smiled at her.

“You’re not from New York,” she said with amusement.

“No, I’m from Colorado,” I replied, probably smiling even more.

“You smiled at me,” she continued. “That’s how I knew.”

Everyone in line laughed. Not at me, mind you … because most of them were also from Colorado and had been on my flight.

So, us weird Western folk chatted away while waiting for our cabs, including some guy who rides his bicycle up our canyon. I’m sure the locals thought all of us quite strange.

Maggie, My Nighttime Escort

As soon as I arrived at the hotel, I called Tom to announce my safe arrival. Then, just as I got out of the hotel elevator, my phone rang again.

This time it was one of my editors, Mara. We’ve worked together for years, but we’ve never met in person. We had made dinner plans, and she wanted to know if I still felt up to it.

“I do, if you do,” I told her.

“Maggie and I will come get you,” she said.

I freshened up as fast as humanly possible and met Mara and her dog Maggie out on the street. They live just blocks from my hotel in midtown Manhattan.

Even though darling Maggie is a certified therapy dog, she is famous for her wag-by greetings. Quick, not too effusive.

For me, however, Maggie saved her best kisses and wiggles.

I ask you, “Who wouldn’t feel welcome after seeing this smiling face, after a long travel day?”

She is doggone awesome. Yes, she avoids the sidewalk grates, but she — dainty as can be — steps into the gutter to pee. She found trash bags fascinating, but she didn’t even seem to notice all the street noise.

After years of hyper-vigilance, I found myself hearing everything acutely as if Lilly was with me, but Maggie is used to it and was fine.

Once, out of sheer habit, I did step between Maggie and a small dog (a pom, maybe) who was zzz-zzz-zzz-ing its way toward her on a flexi-leash.

Mara and I cracked up when a very cute guy, talking on his cell phone, wanted to pet Maggie, and she gave him only passing attention. You could practically her her thinking, “Meh~”

Mara and her husband Michael took me for a terrific Italian dinner in the restaurant on the ground floor of their building. The hazelnut gelato was primo. Thanks so much!

Advanced Warning of Sad News

Keen readers will notice that I’d mentioned earlier Mara’s fearful dog. I was so looking forward to meeting a dog who despite all her fears managed to live in the city.

I’m sad to report that sweet Lisa died from hemangiosarcoma (cancer that starts in the spleen) not long before my arrival. (Our sweet Cody died of the same thing back in 2000.)

Michael cajoled Mara into calling me in advance to tell me because he was NOT looking forward to dinner with a couple of crying girls.

So, Mara and I had a good, long boo-hoo together on the phone the day before my trip. It’s such a loss, and the grief is so powerful. Please keep the family in your heart.

All hail Lisa … I’m so sorry we never met.