Unique New York

Just like a regular woman, only crankier.

Saturday, July 22, 2006


Today was Sandy's Memorial Service (see post below). She was cremated and interred with several of her other pets' ashes at a pet cemetary in Hartsdale, New York. My youngest brother is here in New York for an outstanding students' leadership conference, and so we collected him from Fordham in the Bronx and continued on upstate for the service. All of the adopted dogs and their siblings were invited. It was quite a turnout, and really lovely to boot. There was many a sopping wet woman clutching a handbag complete with a tiny dog.

As we gathered, an older woman sat next to me, and asked where I drove in from. When I told her, she put out a feeler to see if I might be going to Manhattan, since she had taken the train to come in. It turns out that she was Sandy's neighbor. We'll call her Cranky McBitchy.

So, after everyone read things for the eulogy, I stepped out because I have never liked the tradition of tossing dirt on a casket. Besides, it was raining quite heavily at times, and I wanted to get in the car so I could put the dogs down (we were holding them to keep their paws unmuddied.)

So, Ms. McBitchy trailed us to the Volvo. My normally delightfully locquacious fiance clammed up. McBitchy had settled in, and began to say cranky and rude comments as we trailed along. Furthermore, she engaged in Russ's least favorite behavior, which is not asking other people questions. People who are so self-subsumed, or "Me Monsters" annoy Russ more than, say, Republicans. Actually, maybe they bother me more than Republicans. They bother Russ more than my ex-boyfriends.

So, Cranky continued on diatribes about ancillary classes she takes at Julliard, and smugly told us about...something. Frankly, she was so cold and cantankerous that I tuned out when she started talking about time signatures and Charlemagne.

Look, I'm no dummy. I attend graduate school, and I like to think I know a lot of things. But I could tell, that even with my upper level education, I still came off to her as a ninny, a yokel, and a young-person "why are your pants hanging off of your ass" no good hoodlum. I later learned that beyond alienating all of us with her list of talents, she also corrected my younger brother's grammar.

My fantasy is to have overheard the remark, stopped the car, and told her to put her spinning classes to good use and walk the rest of the way to Manhattan.

I was going to drive her to her house, but she kept insisting that she could take the bus. After hearing her complain about why I had taken the particular road I had chosen, I stopped right after the Williamsburg bridge, and let her out. Russell was seething, and Luke was annoyed.

However, I stand by my choice to drive her home. Even though she was an utter pill, I did it for Sandy. See, Sandy handled all kinds of dogs. Especially Lhasas and known-biters that would normally get put down. She would find tolerant owners for the most unloveable of unloveables, and they would live happily ever after. So, McBitchy got a quick ride from me, but I am not adopting. However, if anyone asks me, she should have been put down long ago.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

A little sadness

So, we have a bit of bad news. The woman from whom I adopted my little Leo, Sandy Ridner, of Miss Rumples Orphanage, has passed away from cancer. She was awesome. She found me a little Shih-Tzu who was facing the death penalty, and got him to New York from Atlanta. The only thing she asked for was a donation, not an adoption fee. Needless to say, Leo is a happy addition to our family (without him, Russ would have no one to sing shrill songs too, since our other dog, Toby, is deaf). Anyway, Russ and I left our pups with her in her lower east side apartment, which was filled with adoptees and her own dogs, when he went to go meet my parents. When we sat down for a bit, she introduced us to Fuego, her little pomeranian, who lived on top of the armoire in the living room. He could not tolerate the other dogs as well, and so she put water and food up there, and he lived among the plants. Occasionally, he would poke his little white face from the foliage, bark at the other dogs, and then retreat back into the rainforest.

We were lucky to have known such a kind woman.