I am not joking.
One of the joys of living in the city (along with higher taxes, urban squirrels (rats), and sky rats (pigeons))* is an inordinate amount of bars within walking distance. This is awesome for me, because I don't have to worry about drinking and driving ever. Note: This feature was more awesome for me when I moved here as a hip happening city girl. Now that I have morphed into curmudgeon, the presense of the bars is neither here nor there.
Now my excitement for the evening consists of taking Cecilia for a walk, catching people peeing in alleys and then yelling at them in tones of righteous indignation. Woo! I just wish I had a super-sneaky camera and could catch them in the act. Wouldn't that be fun? I could put posters up everywhere with my pictures.
But wait! There's more! (That Ginzu knife commercial is etched in my brain.)
On top of my curmudgeonliness (yes, I just made that up), let's add some crazy. Because that is what the neighbors are going to think when they see Cecilia in her booties. Let's take a look, shall we?
This show was taken last year in the snow. Note the galoshes. While I realize that does seem a little over the top, I was trying to protect her paws from road salt. Because I am a good dog mom, even though she has a tumor.
Today? It's in the 80s, no chance of any precipitation and Cecilia's back in the galoshes. But let's call them booties now so it doesn't seem so weather-dependent, ok?
Last night Cecilia got up from her dog bed, stepped onto the hardwood floor and all four of her legs went out from under her. She just could not get a grip. I'm watching her scrabbling and thinking that this would have been funny had it not been so pathetic. Then I remember the booties. Which are basically balloons with the narrow part cut off, so they have terrific traction on the hardwood. I put them on her and she is doing MUCH better. She even walked down the stairs on her own this morning!
So now I'll be walking down the street with a Quasimodo dog wearing galoshes. Give me a few more years and I'll start muttering to myself. About smacky frat boys peeing in my alley.
* Every city has issues, but I still pink puffy heart Baltimore.