I have to tell you about the dogs of New York. They say the British are dog lovers, but New Yorkers take it to a whole new level. Forget all the advice you ever heard about owning a dog – like, ‘you need lots of space’; ‘you need a garden’; ‘you need time to exercise it’ – because here there are literally hundreds of dogs, living in tiny flats, with owners who work 50 plus hours a week – and judging by the look of them, they’re faring pretty well. I have never seen such a pack of glossy-coated, healthy wet-nosed, well-fed looking animals – and yes I am talking about the dogs! And they’re not all tiny rat-like handbag dogs – I saw someone with a Great Dane the other day. I mean if that ‘poops’ in the ‘apartment’ you’ll know about it. I’ve even seen a greyhound – not nearly as beautiful as our Blue, but I almost ran after the owner to introduce myself!
But the best bit is meeting these dogs in the lift on the way out of our building to work. I stumbled in the other morning, half-asleep as usual, and there was a huge fluffy Golden Retriever, sitting behaving himself next to his owner. I was amazed – I have never seen a dog in a lift. But the best bit was when we reached the ground floor, he knew! And straining at the lead, he pushed his nose against the lift doors waiting impatiently to get out. As it was clear he and his owner were going to exit before me and the other woman in the lift, his owner, who looked a bit like an updated version of Columbo, fairly chunky, in a suit and long trench-coat, shrugged apologetically – “Sorry guys, his manners aren’t so good.”
