After all my savings disappearing into Jupiter's emergency hospital stay, I wouldn't let him out of the house and into the hall. Who knows how he got that infection that almost killed him, but I didn't have another $5000 to find out.
That did not make him happy. Back on his feet, weight regained (and then some), he would sit at the door waiting. Patiently. Looking at me with expectation that at some point his stare would command me to do his wishes.
It worked. Oh, of course I told myself it was so he'd get more exercise and lose a little of the extra weight he had put on from us feeding him frantically after he came home from the animal hospital. Just a few trots around the stairwell with me right behind making sure no germs got him.
But, what he really wanted was to go visit Pat again. And one night... tonight... I turned my back for a second or three and Pat opened her door and Jupiter scampered in and Pat rang my bell and I went to find him and before any of us knew it we were all watching the big white fluffy poodle win best in the non-sporting group.
MY PRIVATE CONEY presents IT WAS HER NEW YORK, the short stories that accompany the work-in-progress video and photo collection of the same name (myprivateconey.com - media link - IT WAS HER NEW YORK). The stories and the media explore the tender rubble that holds both my mother, Florence's and New York's soul as one disappears into old age and the other into gentrification. All are real observations and/or experiences with very little tall-tale telling.
Except when it makes the story better.
Please visit myprivateconey.com for additional information and sample works.