Here we are in the arms of Junior Mistress, our savior.
See how happy we are?????!!!!
The reason we are happy is because we love her AND because she is a superhero who saved my sister and wife Nala from dognapping today at the sketchy dog-run in Morningside Heights.
What happened was this: Junior Mistress got us all dressed and out for an early morning shpatzir* down W116th Street, past Doody Row (Morningside Drive) and down the concrete steps towards the Pitbull-infested dog run inside the park.
No sooner was I running around like a happy little missile than I saw Junior Mistress stride with fearful purpose towards a marginal character: a fiftyish single lady with long salt 'n pepper hair.
The character had Nala in her arms.
"Excuse me! Excuse me!" yelled Junior Mistress, voice shaking. "Put my dog down! Why are you picking up my dog?"
Yeah!!! I thought, trotting up behind Junior Mistress, baring my scary Pomeranian teeth (or at least the remaining ones) and acting all alpha. Put down Nala, biyatch!!!!
Oh no, Nala communicated to me once she stopped batting her eyes at the stranger. I guess I have to be more careful who I wag my tail at??
Sometimes, Nala, you are a slut for human attention, I shot back at her.
Sorry, she said in a small voice, beginning to wriggle vigorously out of the interloper's arms.
It was clear to me, a Pomeranian without a college education (or any education, for that matter) that the woman was either:
a: deranged
b: high
c: drunk
d: psychotic
e: a dognapper
f: all the above
"Oh, okay. Sorry!!!" she said, placing Nala down on the ground, chuckling nervously.
Junior Mistress was breathing heavily. Glaring at the stranger, yanking on our leashes, she marched out of the dog run and homeward. With Junior Mistress distracted by her anger, it was safe to speak in Pomeranian.
"You dummy! I spat at Nala as we trotted back to our urban doghouse. "We could have been there for at least half an hour. Junior Mistress was going to call her BF and you know how long those conversations are!!! It would have been so awesome if you hadn't flirted with that wackadoodle!"
"Okay, okay!" Nala sighed. "You're right, Alfie. I have to have better judgement. She said she had a treat for me!"
"Omigod!!! Sometimes you are such a dope!" What was with my sister/wife????? "Do I have to explain everything to you????That is the oldest trick in the dognapper's bag!"
Nala looked crushed. "You mean there was no treat??"
So, today I learned that Junior Mistress is our true hero and savior and that Nala is a complete idiot.
Then again, probably all big brothers think that of their little sisters from time to time.
Barks 'n lick,
Alfie the Pomeranian
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*walk, in Yiddish
