This past Saturday we took Luna and Red to our favorite hiking spot in Long Island. Before you enter the trail, there’s a fenced in dog park. Normally, because Luna’s so incredibly aggressive with other animals, we never even attempt to enter these. On Saturday, though, we were so lucky to find the place completely empty. Mostly because few people are crazy enough to go outside for long periods of time when it’s THAT COLD OUT.

So, with one of standing guard at the gate and her muzzle in tact just in case another dog and owner were to creep up without us realizing, we let them loose. And Luna hasn’t had that much fun in a long time. She was obsessed with the football and carried it with her. Sean and I took turns kicking it to the other end of the dog run. And when she brought it back to us, she would rest one paw on the top of the ball as if holding it for me, the punter.

And after a few times, we managed to teach her the command, “Laces Out!” Upon hearing these words, she’d do this:

And while she’s not nearly at a point yet where she could play for the Giants…she may be able to manage a spot on the Jets.

I am always for rescuing a dog. Both mine and Sean’s dog are rescues. I don’t think anyone in my family has ever bought a dog from a pet store…unless PetSmart was holding one of those “rescue days”. Every now and then, though, I like to pop into the stores to see what sweet, cute puppies are for sale. Unfortunately, if these little guys don’t sell, they’re going to end up in a shelter…or worse.  So…with that in mind, aren’t you still kind of saving a dog’s life by buying it from the pet store? I know a shelter is better for the obvious reasons, but these pups need a home as much as the next dog. The main problem I see is that you’re supporting these pet stores and puppy mills by buying from here. Not to mention, they’re ridiculously expensive. This breed pictured (whatever it is, I have no idea) was $550, which for all I know could have been a real bargain.

In any case, these little guys are really cute and I hope that they as well as all the other dogs and puppies in shelters and pet stores find loving and permanent homes.

On another one of our hikes, Sean discovered this tree which had fallen into another tree. Having learned NOTHING from his father’s near death experience with trees, he climbed up and onto it. And the next thing I know, I feel a tug on the leash. Luna had jumped up after him and followed him! I tell you…that dog has been playing us for a fool…she’s not really retarded. She just gets away with a lot more if we think she is.

One big silhouette. And I have to say–she was quite disturbed at the fact that I woke her to take this photograph. She was even more disturbed that no details of her face came out in the photograph. Oh wait–that was me.

I am thankful that Luna hasn’t attacked any other dogs since February. I am also thankful that none of her victim’s owners have sued me.

Although I miss home and wish I were with my family over the holidays, I am thankful to have such amazing friends in the city who take me in like the pathetic orphan I am. I am also thankful that these friends are AMAZING cooks.

I am thankful that I have not yet burnt down my kitchen making side dishes for today.

And lastly, I’m thankful for my crazy family…without whom, I’d be totally sane. And really–who needs sanity?

Happy Thanksgiving everybody!

Next thing you know, I’ll be coming home from work to find her in a bubble bath surrounded by candles and a glass of red wine.

This book, The Shiksa Syndrome, is my friend and mentor-like person, Laurie Graff’s (You Have to Kiss A Lot of Frogs, Looking for Mr. Goodfrog) latest book. We don’t get a chance to see each other often, but she is totally a cool woman and a great writer with a very striking voice.

I just started it tonight (even though it’s been out for a few weeks now…I’m unemployed, people! Cut me some slack!) and I think it’s just so cute and clever. Even though I’m not Jewish ( I guess that makes me a shiksa, right?!), it’s entertaining regardless of your religion. And though it’s definitely written with women in mind, I think that some boys could enjoy this as well. Dogs, too apparently, because Luna seems to be ENTHRALLED with it.

This is one of Luna’s first experiences with snow. And let me tell you…it is by far one of her favorite things. Plus, running in the deep snow slows her whippet legs down a little and tires her out way more than a normal jog.

Pictured here is Luna and Red just as we were about to go snow shoeing with them. About 15 minutes later, Sean fell through the ice into the lake. No, I am not kidding. It was near the bank, so Sean managed to pull himself out of the icy water and onto land. Only, Red, being the loyal best friend he is, tried to run over to see if Sean was ok. The ice started to crack beneath his feet too. I grabbed his leash quickly and pulled him and my oblivious Luna to the middle of the lake where the ice was more solid.

Seriously, Luna…she had no idea what just happened. She just kept running and prancing around, biting Red’s neck.

This is one of those rare moments in my life where Luna is calm.

This dog is on what I like to call “doggie prozac” thanks to Sean’s good friend Megan who is a vet. She understands that “Luna” is short for “Lunatic” and without some form of medicated help, I would be forced to stick my head in the oven on a daily basis.

The drugs don’t change her completely, but her highs aren’t as high and her lows are just as mellow before; they just happen to be more frequent. The drugs take the edge off. And in the process, I don’t end up tearing handfuls of hair out of my scalp.

Right after I graduated from college, my mom and I took a trip to New Orleans together to a writer’s conference down there. Sort of one last hurrah before I moved to New York.

Pictured here is one of the many street bands we came across while walking in the French Quarter. The reason my mom and stopped to listen to them as opposed to the dozens of other bands? We loved that the dog just sat there watching and listening too. I was also a fan of the tiger print bucket under the one man’s foot. We have weird priorities, I know.

This image kick-started a photographic series of people and their dogs around the globe.

We in the Katana family are a little dog crazy, if you couldn’t already tell. Growing up, we always had at least two in the house. My sister has two large labs, I had a boxer in college (who now lives with my parents…she’s much happier there with the yard) and my brother had two boxers while I was in high school. Weejes and Mojo lived with all of us in my parent’s house, so while they were technically his dogs, we all shared the responsibilities of taking care of them.

Since Weejes death last December, Mojo’s health has been declining. He had been diagnosed with cancer and depression seemed to set in at the loss of his friend. Bo decided to get another puppy for everyone’s sake. Gidget entered the family sometime last spring…she is a pug and if you can imagine it, she’s even crazier than Luna.

The new puppy seemed to raise Mojo’s spirits. He had a new buddy…albeit one that would chew on his neck, but a buddy nonetheless. The last time I visited Mojo, he seemed well. He had energy, he was jumping around, wiggling his butt and tail, licking my face…and I’m lucky that that is how I get to remember him.

I think you can see where this is going–Mojo died earlier this week. He wasn’t necessarily young, but he wasn’t old either…about 9 or 10. For boxers, this is the typical lifespan. I want to think he went peacefully, in his sleep, but there really is no way of knowing. It happened while no one was home. My heart breaks for Bo and Christina and the kids…but it is also somewhat a relief. I think we all know that cancer is no easy disease. It’s painful. And there is no morphine to give your dogs to ease that pain. So I am relieved that we no longer have to watch as he winces, finding a comfortable spot to lie down. I’m relieved that we don’t have to see the pain in his eyes as he pants, exhausted from his morning walk

But I will miss you, old man. I’ll miss that sloppy tongue sliding across my cheek. I’ll miss your short stubbly fur that always got on all my clothes. I’ll miss your asthma–that wheezing noise you made after chasing after me in the yard. I’ll miss how I used to slip you pieces of my steak under the table and how Bo and I would bring home entire Big Mac’s from McDonald’s just for you. I’ll miss cuddling on the couch with you and how I used to sneak you upstairs to sleep in my room with me. Then I would set my alarm an hour earlier just to bring you back downstairs before everyone else woke up.

I’m not a very good Catholic in the sense that I A) Believe that animals have souls and B) Believe that those souls will be reincarnated. I believe that Mojo and Weejes will both come back to us in some other form. I believe we will have our puppies back again someday.

A dear friend of mine and a fellow dog lover sent me this poem long ago when Weejes died. He and I share a love of poetry and literature. And I believe Kipling says it better than I ever could:

The Power Of The Dog

By Rudyard Kipling

There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie–
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find–it’s your own affair–
But…you’ve given your heart for a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!);
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone–wherever it goes–for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart for the dog to tear.

We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ‘em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long–
So why in Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?