Sleep With Dogs

Gucci loafers

2013-05-01T12:53:00.002-07:00

We entered the large, cavernous warehouse completely empty except for a small area that was set up to look like a living room in someone’s home. There was a brown leather couch with a side table, a homey standing lamp all arranged on a Persian rug, lit up by spotlights. The rest of the vast space was dark in comparison exception for natural light that streamed in through the windows surrounding the building. In front of the living room set, a plain long table was set up where the decision makers were seated in folding chairs with their notepads and pens in hand. They were dressed like triples, three middle aged men, very different in appearance except for their clothes, all in khaki pants with polo shirts that had the collars sticking up and Gucci loafers without socks. One had a head full of curls, the other had slicked back straight hair and the third was completely bald. A camera man was standing to the side of the stage with his hand-held pointing at me as I walked to the couch with Blondie. Everyone was quiet waiting for us to begin. I had no idea what I was supposed to do. Neither did Blondie.

Enter the professional dogs and their trainers

2013-04-30T16:53:00.002-07:00

Finally, some professional handlers showed up with their dogs. I could tell they were in the business because they came prepared with their dog crates, bait bags, treats and other training paraphernalia. I, on the other hand, was the person with my dog pulling me around on a leash, sniffing, and barking, out of control, and obviously not trained. I peaked inside the crates of the handlers at the other dogs and breathed a sigh of relief; none were as beautiful as Blondie.

Since she was the prettiest dog there by far, at least in my estimation, I immediately felt at ease and confident that she had a good shot at being chosen for the spokes dog. How could I have ever doubted my Blondie? I was imagining her future, being mobbed by fans screaming for her pawdegragh, becoming the poster dog for shelters nationwide, encouraging people to rescue dogs, the two of us meeting Oprah and sharing our heart warming story of how this little dog changed my life and the world.

“Lady, lady, hey you,” I was awakened from my day dream by a man shouting to follow him inside. I yanked Blondie forward as the trainers in line snickered, I imagined them talking behind my back and asking each other what was this person doing here with this obviously untrained mutt?

The big audition

2013-04-25T16:21:00.001-07:00

The next day, I took Blondie to the audition at a warehouse in Culver City. We were the first to arrive. Living in LA, I always gave myself ample time driving to new locations in case I got lost, which I frequently did. But that day, was an exception. I pulled up to the grey, drab building in the middle of an industrial area that seemed totally abandoned. I wasn't even sure I was in the right place. I double checked the address and Blondie and I walked around the building.

In the back of the parking lot, I spotted a sign that read in big black letters DOG AUDITION HERE. So that’s where Blondie and I stood waiting. And waiting. Patience is not a virtue that I have mastered so I became restless and felt uneasy about the whole thing. I was fidgeting and biting my nails, twirling my hair and basically psyching myself into a frenzy. I realized that I hadn't really thought this through before I arrived and now I was starting to have second thoughts.

Raggedy Ann

2013-04-22T13:54:00.002-07:00

The dogs came bounding into the living room like two toddlers, twirling and jumping, barking and play-growling. Elliott was carrying something in his mouth furiously shaking the object to get Blondie to play tug with him.

“Elliott, give me that,” the elegant greyhound spun around, out of my grasp, tail in the air ready for a game of chase. Blondie turned and excitedly bowed her front paws down on the ground with her butt in the air barking at him.

“Stop it you two!” They both looked up at me in surprised. Elliott

dropped to the floor so I could pull the object from his mouth. It was my original Raggedy Ann doll I had since I was three years old completely ripped apart. Raggedy Ann is a rag doll with red yarn for hair, a triangle nose and a special hidden heart under her signature dress and apron. Created in 1915, the doll became popular three years later with the introduction of the book, Raggedy Ann Stories. My mom had given her to me and I had kept her safe all these years. I held the doll and cradled her broken body, stuffing coming out everywhere. I knew Elliott didn't mean to ruin my childhood keep-sake but he did and I was extremely saddened by the loss.

“What happened?” Ryan keeled down and put his arms around me.

Clutching pieces of my doll, Blondie faced me with a look of concern, tilting her head slightly, kissing my tears. Poor Elliott stood back up and wagged his tail not knowing what to do but trying to make us laugh.

“ I've had her forever,” I explained.

“I’m so sorry,” Ryan said as he turned to reprimand Elliott. “Bad Dog!” Elliott cowered as Ryan lifted his hand to strike.

“Don’t hit him. He didn't know what he was doing,” I said. “Besides, it’s too late now. He won’t associate the consequence with ripping up my doll,” I reasoned and hugged the big lug of a dog.

Changing my mind...again

2013-04-19T13:12:00.002-07:00

“Ryan, we need to talk,” I said on his answering machine. I thought it was best to at least give him a warning that something was seriously wrong. He got the message because he immediately called me back and made plans to come over. Of course, he brought Elliott.

“Hello beautiful,” he said as I opened the door. “What are you making for dinner?” Elliott, the complete goofball that he was, stumbled into my apartment and ran into my bedroom to play with Blondie.

“Hello to you too, Elliott,” I patted the big greyhound on the back as he sped by. “Let’s sit down and talk for a minute.”

“Great. I wanted to tell you about something,” he sounded exceedingly excited. “Get this. I saw an ad today about an open audition," he stated with a twinkle in his eyes. You’ll never believe it -- for a paint commercial looking for – are you ready? A dog. I immediately thought of Blondie.”

“Really?” Just like that, I forgot about breaking up with him. He had my number. “You think she could be in a commercial?”

“Why not? It says open casting call,” he handed me the ad, carefully cut out for me. Then he totally surprised me by asking to cook. Granted, he didn't bring anything to cook with but at least he offered.

“Let me make dinner tonight for you. Do you have any pasta? It’s my turn to cook for a change.”

Oh my God. Was he reading my mind? Maybe there was a chance, despite our age difference.

Why aren't you married?

2013-04-18T12:55:00.001-07:00

Young Ryan knew I was disappointed with him after the Valentine's Day debacle. It was impossible for him not to know, I was behaving different. It was as if I was watching myself be a mean girl but I couldn't control my anger towards him. It seemed like the ants marched off with the spark that made our relationship work. Our age difference was taking its toll on me. I felt stuck compared to my other friends.

Barb and her husband were planning a trip to Hawaii with their kids. They were bringing a sitter too so they could have some adult time together on the island of Maui. My other friend Mary received an entire new wardrobe from her husband that Christmas while Kate’s husband always picked up the tab everywhere we went. Ryan couldn't even afford to take me to McDonald's. Add to this the extreme pressure I felt every time I spoke to my mom, constantly badgering me about getting married, and I was headed for a complete meltdown. I needed to break it off with Ryan so I could meet the man of my dreams.

How romantic

2013-04-16T11:18:00.000-07:00

There I was, with an actual boyfriend on Valentine's Day who brought me actual flowers, freaking out about the bugs he unintentionally brought into my home with the bundles of flowers he hand-picked for me. At this point, I would have appreciated one lovely store bought bouquet. But it was what it was and it was up to me to do something about the pests.

“First, get all the flowers out of here and into the dumpster in the alley,” I commanded, now in full combat mode.

My young boyfriend Ryan looked like he was going to cry, but then he complied to my demands like a wounded solider, scooping up fistfuls of flowers and tearing down the stairs of my apartment to the garbage.

I dumped my bedding into large trash bags to take to the Laundromat. Next, I put the dogs in my car so they wouldn’t be hurt by the bug spray.

Ryan was running as fast as he could up and down the stairs with his arms filled with flowers while I was spraying the hell out of the ants and spiders. We were quite a team. We both got on our hands and knees and cleaned up the dead ants with paper towels, then took the bedding to the Laundromat. That’s how we spent Valentine’s Day, killing ants and washing bedding. How romantic.

Spiders too

2013-04-11T17:53:00.001-07:00

Seeing ants in my bedroom made my skin crawl.

“Ryan!” I yelled. He grabbed some of the flowers and more ants ran out. I moved the bougainvillea, it stabbed my finger.

“Ouch!” I dripped blood on the white pillow case as a thick black column of ants marched by. They were scrambling all over the bed, crawling up the walls and down to the floor, from the bedroom to the bathroom. And then I noticed the spiders, huge hairy brown ones, big as a quarter, the whole place was crawling.

“What have you done?” I cried.

Ryan just stood there looking totally defeated. I was devastated. How was I going to clean up this mess?

“I’m sorry,” he said in a little boy voice.

“ You've got to help me get rid of these bugs,” I said hunting for the bug spray under my kitchen sink. But when I went in there, the ant party was going full throttle in the kitchen too.

The ants go marching

2013-04-09T12:33:00.001-07:00

I was so touched by Ryan's Valentine's Day surprise that couldn't help from twirling in circles, excited to see all this beauty surrounding me. I ran to the kitchen as Ryan watched, delighted in my delirium. Tulips, gardenias, sunflowers and daisies hung everywhere in the kitchen, from the window, on top of the refrigerator, on the kitchen table and chairs, even the floors were covered in an array of vibrant colors. I gasped as I entered each room of my tiny apartment, running back through the living room to the bedroom, into the pink tiled bathroom. Even it was filled with pretty fuchsia flowers; they covered the sink and tub. I never had a boyfriend who was that romantic on Valentine’s Day. I grabbed him and kissed him, tears welling up in my eyes.

“Thank you so much, you make me feel so special,” I said as a warm and fuzzy sensation started blooming inside of me.

“You are special,” he answered. I walked over to the bed and carefully moved the irises over to make room for us to sit. That’s when I saw them. Ants. Crawling. Marching. Hundreds of them. No thousands. The entire bed was wriggling with them.

Roses are red

2013-04-05T12:00:00.001-07:00

Ryan didn't let me down; he made it a Valentine’s Day to remember. Somehow while I was at a business meeting, he managed to break into my apartment and decorate it with fresh flowers. Ryan actually hand-picked them, or stole them, from the front yards of well-tended Beverly Hills homes where immaculately manicured gardens are a work of art. I’m not talking about a few flowers here. He decorated my entire apartment with hundreds of them, in all imaginable varieties of blooms.

There were beautiful roses in shades of pinks, reds and yellows creating a sweet scent in my living room that made me dizzy as I entered. Dropping my briefcase and purse, I rubbed my eyes to make sure they were real. My mascara made big black circles around my eyes from rubbing them. Ryan looked concerned, as if he thought I was crying. He stood next to me, wiping off the black around my eyes while admiring the rose garden he had created.

“Ryan, what’s all this?” I asked in a daze, high from the overwhelming fragrance.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” He threw his arms in the air and grabbed me with a big teddy bear hug.

As we hugged, I peeked over his shoulder into my bedroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw stocks of irises in their deep robust purple on my bed that looked surreal like the ones Vincent Van Gogh painted. I didn't know how he knew that Irises are one of my very favorite flowers. I dropped my embrace and ran to see the magnificent buds. Framing them were bright fuchsia stocks of bougainvillea on my pillows as if they were growing toward the ceiling.

Timing is everything

2013-04-03T11:50:00.001-07:00

Ryan loved having his picture taken at all the exclusive parties I was invited to cover for Palm Springs Life magazine. It seemed as though he saw this as a possible vehicle toward his success as an actor. Wherever we went, Ryan was sure to cause a splash. Both women and men in the LA party scene flirted with the young hunk which only fueled my interest in Ryan. I knew these were the shallow people who had never accepted me before but were now my bffs, calling at all hours of the night inviting me and my boyfriend to after hour parties. As long as I brought Ryan with me, then I was also part of the in crowd. Even with all this attention, I knew deep down in my heart it was time to say good-bye and get serious about finding a husband. The problem was timing.

Of course, on Halloween my favorite holiday, I couldn't break it off with him. Or Thanksgiving or New Year’s. But I promised myself, after the holidays, I’d start fresh. But then that plan didn't work because of two simple words. Valentine’s Day.

The Society Editor

2013-03-29T13:50:00.000-07:00

Ryan helped me celebrate my birthday by making reservations at my favorite restaurant, which just happened to be a client so the entire meal was comped. He did a nice job wrapping a present for me. It was a necklace he made out of noodles, like the ones kids make their moms for Mother’s Day. Even though I was disappointed, I decided to wait until the end of the summer to break it off with Ryan. His smile and those big brown eyes just melted my heart every time I considered ending it. Besides, Blondie and Elliott were best buddies by now and the two guys came over most evenings after I finished working to hang out. I made dinner, usually one of a handful of dishes. I cooked up some pasta with doctored up bottled sauce that I said was home made or I heated some cream of broccoli soup from a can that I added fresh vegetables to and lied about making from scratch. It was delicious with a baguette and green salad.

Summer ended, fall began with its promise of new beginnings. I got a side job working as the Around Town Correspondent for Palm Springs Life Magazine. That meant I was invited to literally every event in Los Angeles in the hopes that I would include it in my popular column. Ryan loved going with me to every party, movie premier, art and restaurant opening, play, black tie dinner, everything in Los Angeles. We got to go out and we didn’t have to spend any money. He craved the limelight but I missed staying home with Blondie. I didn’t really like hanging out with all those pretentious people who I didn’t know.

Bringing Up Baby

2013-03-28T14:32:00.002-07:00

My relationship with Ryan was just what I needed, light, fun and innocent. The auburn colored light flecks danced in his brown eyes as he talked and I laughed uncontrollably when he performed private break dance routines, completely naked. When we weren't playing with our dogs, I introduced Ryan to my favorite romantic comedies like the 1938 classic Bringing Up Baby with Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant. I loved the scenes with Hepburn's character, a flighty heiress, and her "baby" leopard. Ryan even helped me stuff envelopes when I had to do big mailings for my clients.

At first, I didn't miss the fact that he had no money to take me out on dates or that we couldn't go on vacation together. I didn't care that we didn't have a future together. Our present was enough for now. Ryan was completely agreeable to my every whim and we never argued. He had what I referred to as “perm-a-smile” and even my cheeks hurt from smiling so much whenever he was around. He followed me sort of like a puppy does. I hesitated to bring him around my friends who were teasing me about my love affair with someone so young. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. Plus, I knew we weren't going to last. Besides, my 30^th birthday was coming up, and I definitely wanted to keep him around until then.

Love or lust?

2013-03-21T15:32:00.001-07:00

Ryan's entire body was shaking with anticipation as he stood up, grabbed my hand and guided me to my bedroom. We proceeded to take off each others clothes. I unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time, kissing him on his chest and down to his belt buckle.

“You really want to do this?” He asked.

I let my body answer him and when he made love to me that night, I felt as if I was 16 again only this time I wouldn’t stop the momentum on the dock in Catalina. There was something about his innocence. Something about his inexperience yet his knowing, just by being male, he knew how to please a woman. There was no pretense. There was no judgment. There was no manipulation. Just a man doing what came naturally from the beginning of time.

Yes, no, maybe

2013-03-20T11:13:00.001-07:00

I don’t remember ever being with a man for the first time without the influence of alcohol dulling my senses. But I wanted this, I wanted him. Ryan embraced me and began caressing my back in slow and steady strokes. He was sweet and gentle and definitely not a ladies man (at least not yet). At times, he was awkward with hands and noses and lips and teeth hitting at wrong moments and in the wrong places. But he explored and we laughed and it felt good to be touched and adored by him. He pulled my body under his and I felt light as a feather. My chaotic mind wailed, he’s too young, don’t do it, you’ll regret it, stop, don’t stop, it feels good, why not, can’t I have a little fun once in a while, no one has to know, just do it, besides, he’s a dog lover like you.

Sweet sweat

2013-03-15T17:28:00.000-07:00

I tried to start a conversation with young Ryan but it was difficult to concentrate. There was no doubt that I was attracted to the boy. So I asked him if he had plans to go to college?

“Yea, I went to Georgetown University for a year but I didn't graduate, obviously," he explained. "The deal with my dad is that he’ll pay my way until I get my acting career off the ground. I have exactly two years. If it doesn't happen, then I go back and get my law degree. So time is not on my side. That’s why I invented Lawrence.” Why he didn't just take acting in school, I thought to myself when out of nowhere, he reached over and kissed me. It was a very sweet kiss, a first kiss filled with promise and puppy love. I felt giddy with butterfly's taking over my entire body.

“Wait just a minute," I said as I pulled away from him. "I don’t know about this. I mean there’s a lot here to discuss. First of all, you’re only 19 years old,” Not even old enough to drink yet, I added in my mind. Even though I had wanted to kiss him just moments ago, and his lips did feel every bit as sensuous as I had hoped they would, the reality of it was confusing. I thought I was not the sort of person who could have a fling. I craved long term relationships and once I slept with someone, it was hard for me to let go. He had just arrived in town and told me that unless his acting career took off, he was headed back east. Those were not very good odds for a long term commitment.

“So what, my last girlfriend was in her 30s," Ryan said, inching closer to me. "I like older women.” I didn't know if I believed that line, he seemed awfully immature. Anyway, I felt weird about being labeled the “older” one considering I was always the youngest, the baby of my family. But his smile kept me hooked. Besides, this was only going to be a fling, remember?

My thoughts kept racing back and forth until he scooted himself as close to me as possible and leaned in for another kiss. That's when my mind went completely blank. He smelled so good. Even his sweat was sweet like vanilla. I stopped resisting.

Cute, broke, actor

2013-03-14T16:27:00.002-07:00

“So, you’re an actor, huh?” I asked the young Ryan as I sat next to him on my second hand couch. He made me feel completely comfortable, possibly because I wasn't putting pressure on myself or him. He was so young that I knew he wasn't "Mr. Right." He was simply "Mr. Right Now."

I took my shoes off and ran my feet over Blondie’s silky coat. She looked up at me then put her head back down on the floor. I gazed at Ryan. His mouth was moving but I didn't hear a word he was saying. I was off in my own dreamland just watching, those full lips, that grin, I wanted to kiss him and feel that velvety mouth against mine. Blondie’s feet started moving as if she was running after Elliott at the park, waking me up from my day-dream. She whimpered out loud like dogs do sometimes in their sleep.

“It’s okay girlie,” I whispered and she relaxed back into her happy dream state. I turned my attention to Ryan.

"Are you an actor of the silver screen or a star of the TV screen?”

“Well, neither yet, I've only started auditioning. I just got a manager when I arrived here a few weeks ago.” He was beaming the entire time he spoke. It was infectious. I started smiling too, even though we weren't talking about anything that was particularly amusing.

“Well, that’s good, to already have a manger, isn't it? It can be difficult to even get representation in this town.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he whispered. “I made him up.”

“You what?”

“His name is Lawrence Feinstein and I made him up. I call about auditions and get myself the appointments due to the tenacity of a totally made up person.”

“Oh my God! You should get an Academy Award just for that!” I didn't think about asking how he found out about auditions or where he got these numbers to call and get the information about auditions. The fact that he just told me he’s a liar didn't even phase me. I was already starting down the road of denial with Ryan. “Let me hear his voice.”

He didn't even hesitate:“Hello, I’m calling about Ryan. He is new in town and is perfect for the role of Sam in your movie. Can I send him to your casting call today?” His voice sounded deeper, older and he imitated a perfect New York accent. At least he wasn't sitting around complaining, I thought.

“How do you pay your bills?” I asked, curious to learn what he did for money. LA is an expensive city.

“My Dad is helping me. He’s an attorney in DC.” Of course he was, I thought. Isn't everyone that lives there an attorney? It figures. He’s cute. He’s an actor. He’s broke.

Hey 19

2013-03-13T18:50:00.000-07:00

The next day, we met at the park. And the trend continued for the entire week. By the weekend, I felt ready to invite him to my apartment. By then, I had moved into out of the Perkins house into my own place in Beverly Hills. I got all my stuff that wasn't ruined during the ugly Bobby break-up out of storage and Berry and Tony gave me some additional furniture they weren't using. Even with Blondie and my friends, I was lonely and tired of trying so hard to find Mr. Right. I figured a fun, non-serious fling with this young man might take my mind off my quest for a while.

“Nice place,” Ryan said as he entered my apartment with the second hand furniture. Blondie was acting really excited to have Elliott over. She was showing him around, the water bowl is here, the bedroom’s here, the kitchen’s here, bathroom’s here. Elliott followed her from room to room as if we lived in a palace. Finally, they settled in the living room, sprawled out on the wood floor in front of the couch, pooped after a fun afternoon frolicking at the park.

“Go ahead and make yourself comfortable,” I said even through Ryan was already sitting on the couch with his feet up on my coffee table. “Want something to drink?” I asked from the kitchen.

“I’d love a Coke,” he replied. I made a funny face from the other room as I peaked inside my bare refrigerator.

“How about a glass of water?”

“Water sounds great.” I returned with two glasses of ice water. At least I had ice. He didn't seem to mind a bit, smiling that contiguous grin.

Bad dog

2013-03-05T14:01:00.001-08:00

I gently took hold of Blondie's collar but she obviously wasn't ready to leave. She looked up at me with those deep brown soulful eyes filled with mischief, and took off in the opposite direction, looking back at me to see if I would chase her. I stayed put but Elliott crouched down then took off in circles around Blondie.

“Your dog is a bad influence on my Blondie,” I said flippantly before yelling, “Blondie Come Here!”

Both dogs turned and started running at full speed towards us while jumping and nipping at each other along the way. Elliott was headed directly at me, not paying attention to where he was headed. I braced myself to be slammed by this big athletic dog but at the last moment, Ryan slid in front of me like a baseball player stealing home stopping Elliott in his tracks. The two of them rolled on the grass, human arms and dog legs flailing. I couldn't believe my eyes when they both quickly jumped back on their feet completely unfazed.

“He has a little difficulty putting on the brakes sometimes,” Ryan told me as Elliott looked adoringly at his owner, obviously not hurt in the tackle. “Must be a bad habit from his racing days,” Ryan added as he gave Elliott an enthusiastic pat and the dog playfully rubbed his entire body against his owner, almost knocking him over. Ryan stepped back and waved his arms to catch his balance. His knees were grass stained.

“You’re my hero,” I remarked acting like a damsel in distress with my hands together by the side of my face, my right leg bent at the knee. As I put the leash on Blondie, I asked “Why don’t we meet here again tomorrow?”

“Deal,” he said as he rubbed the grass off his palms before putting his hand out to shake on it. When our hands touched, I was surprised at the chemistry I felt between us. He was nine years younger, so young I thought I better leave that one alone. As I got to my car, I looked back at him and he was waving good bye with both hands. I could feel the electricity from the parking lot.

Just Friends

2013-03-04T14:42:00.003-08:00

While young Ryan was showing off his break dancing moves, Blondie and Elliott lay together under the shade of a nearby tree both. They already looked as if they were old friends. Their faces were relaxed, noses in the air, their bodies sprawled out on the park's grass. No one would have ever guessed that both dogs were rescued from certain death.

“Where’re you from,” Ryan asked turning his attention to me with that incredible smile. We chatted for a while, mostly about our dogs. I didn't think too much about it since he was nine years younger than me, not even old enough to drink yet. Lots of men my age dated younger women but I just didn't think I could go there.

“It was nice meeting you and thanks for the dance,” I said as I grabbed Blondie’s pink bling collar. "We've got to go now."

“Hey, uh, do you want to go out sometime? I mean, I just moved here and I don’t know that many people,” he stammered. He was so adorable I couldn't help by feel flattered that he asked me out. But we had nothing in common except for dogs. I didn't know anything about break dancing, Washington DC or acting. I figured it was best to remain untangled with this young hunk, even though I found him intensely attractive.

Break Dancing

2013-02-28T12:23:00.000-08:00

Elliott didn't take his eyes off his owner Ryan while the two of them walked back to us. The mutual love between the two of them was palpable as Elliott jumped around his owner like a gazelle. I had a very good feeling about this encounter.

"That was fast," I said as Ryan flipped his right hand taut and sent his arms gliding across his body like a rubber hose moving to the tip of his left hand. "What was that?"

“I used to be a professional break dancer,” the young Ryan informed me. I couldn't break dance to save my life. I tried not to but I laughed out loud as he showed me some of his intricate, athletic moves. Times were different back then. There weren't reality shows or YouTube stars. In fact, there wasn't much opportunity for dancers that I knew about. I had only seen break dancing in person on the streets of New York City.

There was no music playing but as he danced, it was impossible for me to keep from tapping my foot to the beat of his movements. All eyes at the park were now on him as he slid, jumped, and landed on his toes in a dramatic choreographed sequence of intricate dance steps. His feet moved so quickly I could see why the greyhound was his first choice in dogs. He jumped and landed on his hands with his feet at a 90 degree angle, then froze for a moment before popping back up. The muscles in his buffed biceps were clearly getting a workout as he jumped from hand to hand effortlessly. Standing now, his shoulders moved one way while his hips moved the other and then he jumped again, balancing on one arm until he froze in mid-air. This boy had power and flexibility, that’s for sure. By the time he finished, everyone at the park clapped.

“That’s twice today they've clapped for you,” I pointed out.

“On the streets of D.C., they used to give me money,” he laughed as he brushed the grass from his hands. “I started by competing with other street performers until I was discovered. I performed with a troupe from the time I was 16.”

I was impressed. I had no idea the strength that was necessary for break dancing.

Run like the wind

2013-02-26T13:07:00.002-08:00

As I marveled at his majestic looking dog, I asked Ryan if Elliott had ever raced.

“Yea, and he won most of the time,” he proudly answered, showing me Elliott’s tattooed number inside his right ear. “This is his racing number. I looked up his statistics and he was fast. Over 40 miles an hour.”

“Wow. That's amazing. Can I see him run?” I asked and Ryan shook his head yes.

“Here, you hold him and I’ll go to the other end of the park,” he handed me Elliott's collar.

It was hard to hold back 90 pounds of solid muscle. Right away, Elliott started to squirm and lunge toward Ryan pulling my arm practically out of its socket. So I put both my arms around his deep chest and felt his heart pounding as he tried to get away. I was surprised that his short coat was so soft and fine making it even more difficult to hold onto him.

He struggled in my arms, pulling me forward but I held on tight. When Ryan finally yelled to him from across the park, I let go and Elliott took off. I witnessed for the first time the greyhound’s double suspension gallop; all four of his feet were off the ground during each full stride. A hush came over the entire park as his powerful muscles strained against his skin. The small ears that stood straight up moments ago now folded over tight next to his head. Elliott’s complete attention was focused on his owner as he ran the entire distance of a football field in a matter of seconds.

To my surprise, Blondie took off after Elliott and actually managed to keep up with him for a few strides. Her legs were also in a perfect rhythm, reaching out as far as she could make them go. Her golden hair was blowing against her sleek body and her nose stuck out in front of her as far forwarded as she could make it go. But she was no match for the greyhound. When Elliott reached Ryan and skidded to a stop, the entire park broke out in applause.

Blondie only made it a fraction of the distance before she turned and came back to me. Her little game of chasing dogs and biting their tails didn't work with Elliott. He was far too fast for her antics. She stood by my side and watched the fastest dog we had ever seen run like the wind.

Elliott the greyhound

2013-02-22T14:16:00.002-08:00

Seemingly out of nowhere, a young man appeared, running towards me after his beautiful fawn colored greyhound. My heart stopped. He looked more like a Roman God than a human being with his perfectly chiseled nose, his short slicked back hair and muscular build. He wore converse tennis shoes and Calvin Klein Jeans with a simple white cotton shirt that made a striking contrast against his tanned olive skin. Did Goddess Diana send him to me?

Ryan had big brown doe eyes filled with wonder, wide shoulders like an Olympic swimmer and a smile that could melt anyone’s heart. He was only 19-years-old, significantly younger than me, and had recently moved to Los Angeles from Washington DC to start his acting career. He rescued his dog, Elliott, as soon as he had a home that allowed dogs because he had always wanted to save one of these canine athletes. That sentiment alone carried a huge amount of weight with me since so many people I knew in LA were only interested in owning pure breeds as a status symbol. Elliott the dog made his owner look good in my eyes with his slender head, wet brown nose and dark eyes that revealed a gentle, intelligent soul.

The race track is home for these magnificent creatures since birth and they live a very regimented and sheltered existence while they are racing. Most retire after about two-years without any experience in the real world. So, although they are on the large side, Greyhounds make excellent apartment pets. They enjoy being with people and other pets and are a low maintenance dog by nature. They are not in constant motion, as one would think. They've paid their dues on the race track and are perfectly content to sleep the day away, as long as they get their daily walks. I had been an advocate for this breed, even though I had never owned one myself. Elliott looked like he had a smile on his face, just like his owner Ryan. It was impossible not to smile too.

Westies

2013-02-21T15:11:00.001-08:00

I ran into an older couple delighted with their two West Highland Terrier puppies. The man's white hair matched his pack. He looked like a Westie, with dark brown, almost black, eyes. The couple seemed a little overwhelmed by their energetic, independent and self-confident dogs.

“I love those puppies,” I said as both dogs wiggled their entire bodies and tried to climb my legs. When researching dogs before rescuing Blondie, I read that the Westie are very social and friendly but they need exercise. The Scottish breed dates back to James I of England who ordered a dozen white terriers as a gift to the Kingdom of France.

“Westies are great companions,” the man said. “They’re a bit feisty but in a very playful way,” the woman added. "This is their first time at the park," she added. "They just finished getting their shots."

I didn't stop for long, although I did take a moment to inhale their sweet puppy breath! I wasn't even half way around the park yet. There were about a dozen or so people and dogs left to meet and more were arriving every minute. I needed to keep going, stay with the plan to meet my man.

Frisbee

2013-02-20T14:47:00.002-08:00

As I strolled the park with Blondie by my side, I noticed a group of six jocks playing Frisbee with their dogs. Maybe they were single. They looked about my age, clean cut and tanned. Their dogs, a regal looking German Shepherd, a Lassie looking Collie-mix, a giant Boxer, a feisty Jack Russell, and a handsome Golden Retriever were fighting over the Frisbee each time it was launched. The Jack mutt kept catching it, much to the displeasure of the rest of the pack. Once he got a hold of the Frisbee, he ran as fast as he could, playing keep away from the other canines and their humans.

The men were obviously a clique, in their Adidas warm-up outfits so popular back then. As I moved closer to them, the Frisbee came soaring right to me. Was this a form of park flirting? I could play that game. So I caught the Frisbee and tried to impress them by throwing it back. I had not yet learned the gentle art of the Frisbee and hit one of the guys in the head. Needless to say, I kept going.