DOG DIARY NOTES AND LETTERS
Hello again! As busy as I should be, I am doing this instead, proof positive that I am avoiding something I ought to be doing. I am sending you the following un-edited file, I intend to hook it somewhere into my memoirs whenever they get put together, right now they are all somewhere in cyber-junk, like the asteroid belt. Cyber-memories --
Read later, I would enjoy your comments!
always XXX ms

notes january 1998:
Billy came home one day, it was 1970, we were living on west tenth street as lovers, kids we were, and he had just seen a dog somebody had,
"I want a dog" I want a Giant Schnauzer! It is the most beautiful dog I ever saw."
There is never saying no to Billy, you have to have known him then, so beautiful, I loved him madly, and would have done anything for him, so we shopped and he found a breeder, Maggie Lewis, and she had a male, from the "J" litter, named Janus - guardian of the portal, and we brought him home. And he did indeed stay by the door to the apartment! We loved that dog, he slept between us, all 110 pounds of him, and he was no doubt Billy's. These dogs bond with either one human or another, but that never stopped me from loving Janus. Time came when Billy and I had to live apart - guys do that in their love sometimes, but boy did I ever miss that dog! and one day, I am out for a walk, there's this black guy, Mike Henley I think, it was so long ago, and he was walking a Giant, female, and her name was "nizey". and he wants to get rid of her!

(I never learned to spell that dog’s name, it is a sound to me, a mantra if you will, I was told it is a Swahili word, meaning "black daughter". If you love someone, the name-sound becomes a beautiful experience no matter what it is. )

Of course I try to dissuade him:
" You are crazy to give up a dog like this",
"I live with someone who's allergic"
"get rid of the someone"

but I offer to take the dog for a month as a trial, I didn't want to see as fine a dog as she is let go somewhere and live a lousy life, so Mike agrees, and we meet on the street, we walk down west tenth street together, and Mike ducks behind a predetermined car and disappears, and I am left with a bewildered freaked-out dog. A very distressed one. She is unable to speak, I see how much pain she is in; she is frantically looking everywhere for Mike! Such articulation of pain, I still feel it all these years later. Now the bonding begins, an ice cream cone later, she comes home with me. We are together all the time, I take her out to Christopher Street to buy her ice cream cones, and meet people. Never do we ever leave the other’s side. Dates? she comes with or I don't go! She ducks between cars while I hail a cab, and then jumps in before the startled driver can protest, she is so beautiful no one can resist her. If it's an overnight, she lays on the floor and keeps her eye on me, she isn't ever going to lose another master, and I swear to her in my way of metaphysical communicating that I will never leave her. still, she never lost that initial sense of not wanting to lose me. And even as I wince at admitting it, she was GREAT at facilitating meeting guys on the street. always she was THE beginning of a conversation!

So I lost a lover, but gained a dog. not a bad deal, really. I still have the lover-friend. 30-odd years later, and Lulu, a descendant of that original girl. oh, mike, yes, well, it turns out he had abused her, and also turns out he wanted her back, two months later, but I had already bonded with her by then, and refused. I think back now, absolutely NO regrets, that dog had a wonderful life with me. She gave me a wonderful life, I named my restaurant after her. She was the start of a wild boy settling down with something to be responsible to, and becoming a man.

NIHIZI AND THE PORCELAIN CAT
copyright Michael Safdiah 1999

Nihizi was my first companion Giant Schnauzer. Every day, she would come to work with me at The Black Sheep (named the restaurant after her) and late at night we’d walk home again the half dozen blocks to the apartment. Our usual route took us past an old shop on West Tenth Street, across from the police station. It was a dingy hole in the wall, stuffed with old things, curios, used clothes, picture frames, china, clocks, ‘objects’ and junk. Everything was jammed in that incredibly packed space, or on the sidewalk. If you wanted something, you might have to ask the Thai owner for it. Everything there was darkened with the color of gray dust. In the dark, grimy window was a porcelain cat. It was black and white and had intensely looking at you eyes. You would never notice it, but Nihiz would freeze up each time we passed the shop, pointing at the cat, and not move on willingly. This mini-drama would go on for months, and one day I wondered what would happen if she was permitted access to the statue. The owner graciously removed the cat from the window, and brought it forward for Nihiz to see close up. It was placed on the sidewalk. She was visibly trembling with excitement. As she slowly inched up on the cat, an almost imperceptible slow movement, she was finally nose to nose with the statue. One sniff, and she realized it was not alive. She turned away, uninterested, and never again slowed down as we passed the shop’s window. I sometimes wonder if I took something precious away from that dog.

What reminded me of this was the time I spent today with Blondie, in front of the TV. It was the morning news show, and there was a dog trainer demonstrating doggie toilet training. Of course, I need to tell you that Blondie, a Yellow Lab, watches TV and whenever she sees an animal of any kind, she goes ballistic. Jumps at the screen, barks, I wonder if she’s going to bust the set one day, so I decide to defuse her anxiety. I stand there, bring her to the screen, let her sniff it, and then, as she starts to calm down, I stop myself, and decide to not do it. I like having a crazy dog who gets some joy out of a television set.

How many dogs do you know who love wildlife on PBS?

<< notes nov '97 I had written to Maggi Lewis, the breeder of my 16 year-old German Giant Schnauzer, and recieved in return a photo of Suki, my dog's mother, who was Maggi's own house dog. Nihiz was the reason for naming my restaurant The Black Sheep, (couldn't call it "The Black Dog") Nihiz was my constant companion for all the years I had her. I used to hide her in the dining rooms of restaurants where I cooked, and finally had to buy my own restaurant because I wasn't about to be separated from her.

The initial letter I wrote to Maggi is lost, as is Suki's photo, due to my near fatal illness in 1994, but this is my reply to Maggi, still on my PC . Nihiz was lame, hip dysplasia, and I was already supporting her weight while we walked, I knew the time would come, and I knew the responsibility would be mine but had no idea when or how to tell. As it turned out, it was a vet, a tough bird but a great medic, dubbed by her patients as "the Queen of Mean" who told me, "She'll let you know when" As it turned out, Susan was right. >>

this letter shows I hadn't yet learned to type in proper case: Amateur stuff.

>>" FEBRUARY 7, 1989
DEAR MRS LEWIS,
THANK YOU FOR THE LOVELY AND THOUGHTFUL LETTER, AND THE NOTE YOU PLACED ON THE BACK OF THE PHOTO. I TOO HOPE MY GIRL WILL BE WITH ME FOR A WHILE YET. YOUR NOTE ACTUALLY BROUGHT TEARS TO MY EYES. IT IS SO DIFFICULT TO KNOW WHEN THE RIGHT MOMENT IS TO HELP OUR BELOVED AND FAITHFUL COMPANIONS WHEN THEY NEED TO FINALLY LEAVE US. I HAVE BEEN WRESTLING WITH THIS FOR SO LONG NOW, AND I STILL FEEL I DON'T KNOW ENOUGH!

THE PHOTO OF SUKI IN THE BOOKLET LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE MY NIHZI! THEY HAVE THE SAME FACE. MINE IS VERY OLD, NOW, AND OF COURSE THE AGE MAKES A DIFFERENCE, BUT WHEN NIHZI WAS A BIT YOUNGER, YOU COULDN'T TELL THEM APART. I SHALL KEEP YOUR SUKI'S PHOTO NEAR MY DESK WHERE I CAN SEE IT OFTEN AND REMIND ME OF NIHZI.

NIHIZ IS A VERY BRIGHT, ALERT, AND YET GENTLE CREATURE WITH A "LIFE FORCE" THAT MOST PEOPLE I KNOW REMARK THEY HAVE NEVER SEEN IN A DOG. SHE MEETS AND MAKES FRIENDS EASILY WITH MOST WHITE PEOPLE, AND TENDS NOT TO PAY MUCH ATTENTION TO HER HIP AFFLICTION.

HER APETITE IS STILL ASTOUNDING, AND SHE SEEMS LIKE SHE JUST ISN'T AT ALL READY TO QUIT. IT'S HARD FOR HER TO GET AROUND NOW, BUT SHE NEVER STOPS TRYING. SHE SEEMS NOT TO BE IN PAIN, NOW, AND DESPITE THE FACT THAT SHE ISN'T ALWAYS IN CONTROL OF HER BOWELS, THAT ISN'T A GREAT PROBLEM... THERE WILL BE SOME TIME AFTER SHE LEAVES WHEN I WILL BE ALONE, AND I THINK I WILL WANT IT THAT WAY... THEN I DO FEEL I WOULD LIKE ANOTHER GIANT SCHNAUZER IF, AND ONLY IF THERE IS A CHANCE THE DOG MIGHT HAVE SOME OF SUKI'S & NIHZI's WONDERFUL DISPOSITION.

KEEP ME IN MIND...
SINCERELY," >>

<< and here is a letter I wrote to the late "UPPER WESTSIDER" on the now defunct BBS The Backroom. I pasted it from the BBS. David died of AIDS, and was the Sigop of the Talking About Aids Board on the BBS. He had a heart of gold, was poor, and once secretly paid a visit to me at my restaurant without telling me who he was, such was anonymity on the old days of text files and no online photo files. (O’ why is it that we still hide from one another behind our fucking keyboards!) We spoke, Still, there was magic I can still recall in the eyes of that thin mysterious stranger with the broad brimmed Fedora hat, his support and encouragement helped many of us. I wrote this to him after Nihiz passed away at 17 and a half years of age: >>

<<march 16, 1990.
David, I just thought you would like to know, Nihiz (you called her "susie") passed away yesterday afternoon. The vets arrived here at the house with a syringe, rather than have her be taken over to their office. She was on her couch, quite out of it, and welcomed the painless injection. It was over in a few seconds. I was surprised how fast, really, she left. I wasn't ready for it. I sat with her, her limp head on my lap, still warm, and gradually stroking her somehow hoping I could still give her some comfort, and praying that she understood that I wasn't really the murderer I felt I was. I cried a lot, prayed a lot, and wondered why humans don't have the same dignity as their animals.

I sat with her most of the night, begging God to give her the best he could, and wishing I was as good a human as she was a dog. Somehow I have never ever dealt with the death of someone I loved this much before. I woke up this morning, still thinking she might stir, and that the whole thing would be a bad dream. I blame myself for not doing enough during our 17 years, and cry a lot. She deserved someone who wasn't such a work-a-holic as I am.

This morning we drove out to Fire Island, my best friend Billy and I, and placed her in a spot she always loved, on my land, on a grassy dune overlooking the bay just below an old Holly Tree. I have never said goodbye before, and I didn't know how. I cried an awful lot, which must have upset her spirit. I wanted to be happy, and have her feel happy, too. She would always howl if she heard me cry, which made me start to laugh! I'll miss her terribly. I had no idea just how big a part of my life she was, and how much I took for granted. Until now, that is. I hope you are well. I'm healthy. I just thought you'd like to know. Love, Michael
>>


<<Msg#:29475 *PRIVATE MAIL*
03/19/90 12:39:56
From: LAWYER IN BRIEFS
To: MICHAEL ALLEN (Rcvd)
Subj: REPLY TO MSG# 29467 (FAVOR)
MIchael: That was a very beautiful and touching message. I can empathize with your feelings, particularly your missing her. But with animals, as with people, when the time comes, it comes, and life reaches its inevitable conclusion.
I'm sure it's perfectly natural for you to be in conflict over what has happened. But you must remember how much she was suffering, and how little, in all likelihood, could be done to alleviate her suffering. I think you did what had to be done -- what was best for her.
Just don't be so hard on yourself and punish yourself for this. You did the humane thing. I know that doesn't make you miss her any the less. But I certainly am saving a ***big hug*** for you, at least a spiritual one."

<->, <D>elete, <A>gain, <R>eply, <N>ext, or <S>top? >>

So that was the way she left this life. The last months were hell for both of us, but I wasn’t able to let go, and I knew she didn’t want to either. I just knew. When you are with someone that long, even though no words came from her, we had our ways of communicating. When she was unable to walk, I slung a towel underneath her belly so she could stand up, and when I sensed the she was ready to squat, I’d lower the towel. I was very weak then, and HIV was already making me feel it, and she seemed tto understand that as well.


That morning, however, I knew something was very wrong. She wouldn’t eat. I made her an omelet, and she took a bite or two, but even that was passed over. She stayed on her couch, and looked awful. It was time. I called Dr. Susan, she was about to go on vacation for two weeks, and I decided that two weeks more of this would be agony for Nihiz, and for me. The decision was made, and I was resisting the reality of it with every fiber of my being. There was no going back, and I didn’t want to go forward. I wanted to die with her. At least I wanted to know that we would be together on the "other side".

July 1990
I got a letter 2 days ago from the breeder of my recently deceased Giant Schnauzer. An incredible opportunity. The sister of the winner of the Westminster Show. The breeder had raised her for her own daughter, but the daughter can't keep a dog in her new apartment, so am I interested, she wants to know. I showed the letter to my lover John. "we have to go meet her" he said. John was the smarter and more pro-active of us. I still recall my first view of her, from a distance. She was standing apart from the pack of all the other dogs, she was on a hill, that day, something about her said she stood apart, yet when she decided to run with the other dogs she’d run circles around them, and bark, and stir everything up. Then they’d chase her, but she was too fast. That was her shepherding instinct, which lasted all her life.

She's five months old, lanky and leggy, with gorgeous soft black furnishings and deep black eyes set in a clear white background. Lively, and very happy. The breeder kept calling her "Lulu". John and I looked at one another and winced. Lulu. what a name. Could we live with it? She didn't have the personality of my old girl, not by a long shot, but no dog ever could. Nihiz was one-in-a-million, but John fell in love with her right off the bat. She was shy with me, it took me a few hours longer. We spent the afternoon at the breeder's farm, getting to know her, and we decided, "sure, what the Hell, let's do it!" As we were paying for her, and Mrs. Lewis was filling out Lulu's papers, I asked, "what's her official name?" She says, like I should know, "well, Talula, of course!" "TALULA!!!!!" John and I screamed the name at exactly the same time. It was perfect. It was fate.
Wish us all luck. Love, Michael

The next day, John took the Benz, Lulu, and took off to the beach house for 9 days to "bond" with Lulu. I was stuck at the restaurant, stupid. Back home now, We are already fighting over who she loves more. Not that there could be a contest. Everyone who meets John loves him - he's wonderful. Every time he sneaks her a treat, I scream that he is trying to win her affection. Then he looks the other way and I give her Chinese food....

We taught her to run up the open spiral stairs in the apartment today… John up stairs, urging her to come up, and she did, cautiously, but she made the trip amid cheers, and applause, and it was back to me downstairs, then back up and down around six times, it was a game!
She learns fast! She learns everything thinking it's a game.

<< well these are the only dog entries I have in my scrapbook, until a few years ago, when I began again to write, with Lulu the star in many of my experiences, perhaps because I tend to see the world thru her eyes, by the way, Lulu has filled that emptiness, I rarely spend time without her, she has all the spirit of my old dog, perhaps the spirit of all dogs, love, ms 1997>>

CRIME AND NOURISHMENT
We were at the island house waiting for the sun to set, and there were to be Moroccan style hamburgers, onions, cinnamon, pepper, parsley, cloves, garlic, amazing aromas just while I was mixing the meat. Fourteen burgers were placed on a platter near the grill. the wine was served down by the bay, and when we were ready for dinner, after a wondrous splendid Pines sunset, I couldn't find the burgers. I thought at first I had misplaced them, and looked all over for several minutes until the sound of a deep long loud Lulu-burp told the story. The empty plate was all the evidence I needed. I decided to spare her life. Murder was surely a temptation, however, but it was too late, nothing would be gained; the crime had been its own reinforcement.

NIHIZ AND THE LONG ISLAND RAILROAD
The Seeing Eye Dog

This little story is true. I wrote it years ago, and while I could edit it maybe to make it read more smoothly, I want to send it to you this way, in the voice I used when I wrote it. Nihiz was 1 year old when I met her in 1973. Her owner didn't want her, and I gladly took her into my life. I've had 2 dogs since that time, but of all of them, she was certainly the most regal, the most noble, and only she could speak directly into my mind.

I was in my twenties, and didn’t always have a running car, but I did have a love for Fire Island, and I had a dog. A dog I loved more than anything else in the world. She was a perfect, beautiful Giant Schnauzer. Ninety pounds of dog, regal, noble and handsome, she drew stares of admiration wherever we went. I was always explaining that she wasn’t a Schnauzer who got huge, but an entirely different breed, so named because of some bad-joke German dog-naming stupidity. Fire Island was already my favorite place on Earth, still is, but there was only the LIRR and the only dogs they allowed were seeing eye dogs. Did I mention that I believe GOD gave us Fire Island so that dogs and their humans could run free on a beach, and share something primal which is tragically missing from city life?

It’s an indescribable joy to any dog lover, certainly me, to be with his pets on the Fire Island beach at early morning, or at sunset, letting the surf caress one’s feet, and feeling alone, and totally free, just the two of you. Those times to me were priceless, and, of course, illegal. Certainly the risk was worth any penalty.

Which all brings me to the times I committed a crime to get me and my dog to the beach. It was one of those inspirations, grown out of desperation, that comes with seeing a broom handle in a corner, and a can of white and red paint. Dark glasses finished the outfit, we were ready for a trial flight. Launching ourselves on our career of crime, we tried out a subway to see how she’d do with the train noise. We took the Seventh Avenue line to 34th street, from Sheridan Square and back. We were a comic pair now that I look back on it. Nervous a bit, but she did fine, and I was constantly hissing, in stage whispers, "Heel! Heel ! Nihzee, Heel!"

NihIz was a quiet dog, and very well behaved, and she always would stand at heel when I told her to. It wasn’t hard to have her appear like a seeing eye dog, even without the brace unsighted persons usually use. She always stood at my side anyway. She’d have it no other way, she was a shepherd dog, and after all, I was her job. All her life, her job, according to her, was looking out for me.

Saturday morning we made our move. I practiced bumping into things and not being distracted by people looking at the odd couple we made, Nihzee practiced "heel" and we made our way from the subway to the Long Island train with absolutely no trouble at all.

I knew we were attracting attention, but I felt sure that no one would challenge us. I was right. Once we got off the train at Sayville, my vision miraculously returned! It was a regular thing, those train rides, and the toughest part was for me, when I saw a cute guy, to pretend to be unaware of him.

Think about it a moment, a dog, experiencing the New York City subway for the first time. The turnstiles, the terrifying noises, thundering trains, squealing loud brakes, the people, and of course, the smells. Arcs of electricity, oil fumes, and movement on a strange conveyance. Doors opening and closing, and me - practicing blindness. What a pair! She was one amazing dog. I should also mention we went every where together.

We even took a seaplane to The Pines, back when you could afford it. Those days there was no dry genteel landing dock, you had to rough it, and wade to the plane in the shallow muck of the bay. Dogs too. Especially ninety pound ones, got wet, and after boarding the plane with some assists from the pilot and me, well you can guess what happened next. Right - she shook off the water, dousing the passengers. There were shrieks, but you don’t fly dressed in your best Gucci’s at least we didn’t. That was one fun scene. She was the greatest good sport, that girl. I swear she had a sense of humor, more than any dog I ever knew.

Funny, I still feel her right there, next to me, I was walking down the boardwalk late last night, heading home from a catering gig, and realized that for the first time I was without a dog on this walk. I stood still long enough to look at the stars, and heard Nihzee’s voice saying, "I’m here. So is Lulu. We both are, we’re together. You brought us to this place, and we’ll always be here with you". Damn, that made me happy.

note: Lulu was also a Giant Schnauzer, who followed Nihzee as my main squeeze a few months after old age took Nihzee. She was 17 and a half years old. Lulu passed away at age nine on the spring of 1999. The dumb vet who was attending her had no idea she was ill until it was too late. ms

THE ELECTRIC DOG -- FALL '95
The chilly weather has finally snapped
its first crack at our butts,
sending me for my warm wools,
(love to wear 'em!)
bought two new very heavy flannels,
plaid, of course,
Miss Lumberjack.
Better start wearing hats,
bald can be hot,
but cold too

You know who ELSE loves this weather? Yup!
Miss Bouncy Butt, Lulu
the electric dog,
revitalized,
and I thought she might be unwell,
or needing vitamins.
Hah!
She's fine,
we all are.
She was actually dancing-bouncing
up Washington Street
just before we came back from our walk.
Joyous she is, and I too.
Made me laugh out loud!
Maybe we'll be going out to the island,
weather permitting,
but I can't imagine what weather
would preclude the trip, can you?

SUMMER '98 AND BLONDIE'S ARRIVAL
I'm on the late September beach, with both the dogs, the sun warms my back, Lulu lying near me keeping an eye on me, and Blondie, scanning the horizon for possible action. No Frisbee is safe when that dog is on the beach. We are starting to become unpopular with the boys who can’t throw one of these things anyways. They are digging a hole now, it’s great to see them working as a team on a single hole, and spraying me with cool damp sand, and of course I'm risking a fine for having the dogs on the beach. No matter, the cops here are delighted to give tickets to easy targets, like the tow trucks in the city, they leave the difficult neighborhoods alone while hitting the sleepy west village for their prey. I'm in paradise now, Iris the old restaurant mascot cat is with me this summer here on the beach. Lulu is well, and we've just adopted Blondie, a year old yellow lab who swims like a dolphin. I wasn't planning a larger family, but for now it seems we're going to grow by one. I'm content with that.

Iris by some miracle is still alive, I watched her birth four kittens in the basement of the Sheep one weekend night at 3 am, and watch her teach them how to hunt, feed, nurture and mother them, (where did she learn all that!) I watched all that, years ago, and Iris is still in our family, now an old queen, teaching me still how to be a part of her pride. She really has nine lives, I've lost count, she had several bouts of breast cancer, liver disease thanks to a stupid vet diagnosis. She lived at the restaurant all her life, except when she moved in with Joe Healy, and then came back, lived at the Sheep, then moved in with Lulu and me when it seemed imminent that the restaurant might close.

She's a survivor, she is. That's a lesson for me, and while I knew I would be on the island all summer, I was scared to bring her out here. No problem, she took over the house, found the sunny spots, commandeered the sunny south porch, it was Iris' territory. She kept close to the property, and generally became the country house cat she always wanted to be. Now I only worry about her re-adapting to city life, but there are mice for her to keep in line, and she has a job to return to in our city household. Right now I delight in spotting her, passed out cold., belly up, softly cat-snoring in a sunny afternoon spot on the back deck. You’d almost have to know it was her when you see that ball, she’s every shade of gray, and brown, and silver, and white and black…I know that God put us here. Another reminder that I belong here too, and that my animals are still teaching me about life.

With two dogs in the family now, she's busy teaching both of them what the pecking order is, Blondie is at the bottom, she isn't even sure if this is her home, neither am I. Her owner who will likely give her up is still making up his mind. Uncertainty sucks, but it helps me trust in God. When the time comes I think I'll know what to do. Meanwhile we feed, walk and play with her as though she is one of us. The dog is seducing me, nature has given the dog that protection with humans like me. Doubtless I will take her on or be certain as best I can she has a good life.

Lulu and Iris were always fighting with one another, now they have one thing in common, their wanting to put Blondie in her place. Or, have her dead and gone. For her part it’s clear that Blondie is on very uncertain ground, and treads very lightly everywhere. Now the two of them are sharing my bed, like two old ladies glowering at the newly arrived youngster over on the couch. It's actually great to see the two of them together like this, they used to fight like cats and - well you know. Last night the three of us had a conversation:
"Who is that and why is it here? "
"You know very well it’s er -- SHE’s a dog and her name’s Blondie and she’s homeless for the moment, and she’ll be visiting with us for awhile."
"She’s ugly. Take her away. We hate her."
"You are expected to be good hosts. Besides, I want to shelter her, what would you have me do?"
"Just make her go away and leave MY home. She’s always annoying me, she’s enormous and sticks her face right in my nose. She keeps waking me up - I haven’t had a decent catnap for weeks."
"Iris, you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, I’ve watched you in action. Which reminds me, I didn’t like the way you and Lulu were stalking that poor creature around the couch yesterday, you going one way and Lulu going the other. First time I ever saw the two of you working as a team!. In a way, I was kind of proud of the way you two operated."
"We’d have got her if you hadn’t stopped us, I hate her. I’ve watched her in your lap. You love her more than me. "
"Lulu, I love you more than any living thing, and you know it. You’re my girl, now stop being silly, darling. Tell you what, let’s all adopt her, and soon we’ll find her a home, and she’ll go away, and we’ll all be together again. Okay?"
"Well, I still hate her and if she eats my food again, she’s dead meat"
"Stop that you two!"
"We saw how you are softening toward her, she’s got you wrapped around her little dew-claw. You’ll never get rid of her,
Well, you get the idea, and you can believe me when I tell you that I actually do speak with my animals, and they talk to me too.

Lulu is almost nine, and up till recently, she slept almost all the time, but the new dog has made her come alive again, she is strutting her stuff, showing her power, and keeps up with the lab on the beach, when we take dawn and sunset walks there. She's been a tired old bag, Lulu, now she actually finds ways to nail Blondie when they are on the beach, she seems to use ambush and anticipation rather than speed, so she can bash the lab. She’s a good fighter, Lulu, but Blonde is learning - I wonder how long it will before the old dog recognizes her as an equal - she already accepts her as part of her pack.

Food is an issue here too, Lulu is used to having her bowl available to her whenever she likes, no threat, now Blondie will take whatever she sees from wherever, so Lulu is constantly standing guard at her bowl. Makes me feel sad in a way. She used to be able to relax more.

In a way that reminds me of myself, when I was ill, helpless with AIDS, I rallied my strength and still tried to hold tight control of my restaurant, my link to life. I lost some key employees like my chef Bobby, seven years with me) who thought I was a goner, (he even tried to buy the place from me for a dollar while I was in my delirium. Then he bailed out. ) I swear that the restaurant saved my life, it gave me something to live for, something to hold on to and stay active and get healthy. There were notable things at this time, a drug addicted chef who replaced Bobby, a best friend employee who stole over a hundred thousand dollars from me, (the DA did nothing, neither did the police). They asked me if I had any receipts, does a demented sick person ask for receipts? A con artist is a con artist. In fact he made me promise to say nothing to anyone, I was too demented to realize why. They told me I should sue in civil court. Civil court. Sure. Now if that doesn't make a guy stop believing in a justice system, well, tell me what does.

It's a system which degrades gays as less worthy than other people, and that we don't deserve justice like other people. It's a system which has allowed so many of us to die, by ignoring the deaths of thousands, because they chose to ignore us as a valid part of the population. It's a population of hypocrites and deceivers, we solemnly hold that we cannot abide a president who lies, yet we haven't had a single one who hasn't. This might have been a cookbook, I hope I get to the good part soon.

I was hurt by a trusted friend, he stole all my money when I was too ill to know what I was doing. This is not a society where you go pick up a gun, and get even, and yet the system won't allow me to do that, but it won't protect me or allow me to get revenge, either. What good is that! Still, when a trusted friend hurts you, you don't just let it go, you have to strike back, hard. Forgiveness yes, but that doesn't mean I approve or agree with it.

One other thing that saved my life was the love of my family, and the love of a very miraculous dog. A Giant Schnauzer named Lulu. She came into my life a few months after my first one passed at age 17, and made it her business to be by my side wherever I went. It was as though Nihiz had sent Lulu to keep watch over me, and she did, and does to this day, even though she suffers from cancer. My recovery from that brain virus would have been a lot slower had it not been for that dog.

REFLECTIONS AFTER LULU'S PASSING
For the nine years we were together, she was my constant companion. I can’t think of any time when we were ever apart, materially, except when I was hospitalized in ’94. That's when I nearly died from a virus in my brain, and I swear that dog deserves most of the credit for my being alive today.

Lulu was a companion dog and as such she had never left my side in all the time we lived together. While I was recovering from that brain virus, she was always at my bedside. We were a six-legged two-headed person. People on the island would only recognize me because she was with me. Funny, that. When she passed away last March, I decided to bury her on my property on the island. That day, I had wrapped her frozen body in a very large laundry bag. Drove to the island ferry with her in the trunk. Art L. and Joe H. came with me, and Mark N. helped me drag her from the vet’s freezer to the car. The wait for the boat on that warm spring Saturday afternoon was a few hours. We had to carry her onto the ferry boat, and leave her at the town dock until we went to the house to bring a cart to haul her. It was a cold day, but the sun was shining, and the trip had been long. Even a 90 pound dog can't stay frozen forever, and she was starting to thaw. The entire afternoon had black but nearly comic notes throughout. She was at rest, she had got into the car on her own steam, died in the car on the way to the vet, and finally, her last voyage would end as she always wished it would, with her at home on Fire Island at 71 Bay Walk. I went through the motions, but I was numb, like it was all a bad dream, and I’d wake up, and see her there on the floor.

I would still see her for weeks after she passed, I’d look at the spot on the floor outside my shower where she’d always hang out while I was behind the curtain. I still havent been able to forgive that vet for misdiagnosing the lympho-sarcoma cancer for a fluid build up, until it was too late. Ton$ (finally) of TE$T$ (some west village vets are worse than bloodsuckers for what they charge) showed that she was full of cancer, and might have survived with chemo, had it been caught earlier. I was driving her to the oncology clinic one afternoon, and when we arrived in Little Falls New Jersey, she had gone to her final sleep in the back of the car she loved. As far as she was concerned, she was on her way to the island, and that‘s exactly where she is.

My life still is filled with another dog now, a 2 year old yellow lab, she’s named Blondie, and she was a wild one! Grew up on a beach and loves to wrestle every dog she meets. She was timid and shy when she arrived, but hell, no longer. In fact Blondie came to live with me Iris and Lulu last summer, and my two old ladies got much more youthful with the addition of the lab to our family. It was especially apparent to see when Lulu and Blondie would run the beach in the mornings, before the police got there to give out tickets. Whatever the reason for Lulu’s leaving this life, I know her last months were especially happy thanks to the second dog.

CHRISTMASTIME
They say that on Christmas Eve, at midnight, that animals can speak. I haven’t experienced this, but I do know from many years of living with them, that they do speak on Christmas Day, and not to us, but to one another. This was my first holiday without a Giant Schnauzer, and this morning when I got up, both Blonde and Iris were curled up together in a ball, nose to nose. To me it was perfectly clear. You can draw your own conclusions, I’m just an observer here, and I see them as a blessing in my life.