Woke up with a terrible headache afraid I’d never make it, but after whining to my friend Ed who recommended ALEVE, I was off and running…numb from the neck down, but hey…it got me on the train.
I took the local to Brooklyn Bridge so I could stroll across, something I’ve always loved doing, then walked the five minutes to Carmela’s new home.
A four-story townhouse built in 1899, majestically sits at the end of a beautiful street right across from the Promenade, a perk for our pooch who practically has a park in her own backyard…plus a backyard.
I knocked quietly rather than ring the bell peering into the window thinking, if only these walls could talk, when who’s casually tooling by but Carmela who stops and jumps on the window sill, howling, something she rarely does.
It reminds me of an old Kaye Ballard joke about the kid who never said a word until he was 12. “MOTHER…THERE’S NOT ENOUGH SUGAR IN MY COCOA.”
The mother, stunned, says, “You spoke, OMG, why did you wait so long?”
“BECAUSE UP TILL NOW EVERYTHING’S BEEN ALRIGHT.”
A maid I’d never met came to the door holding a mop like a bayonet.
“Si?” she said, having no clue who I was. By this time Carmela was on her hind legs attached to my waist.
“I’ve come to walk Carmela,” I said, realizing she spoke no English proceeding to play charades acting out why I was there. Luckily, the woman of the house came downstairs happier than I’ve ever seen her.
“Suz-anna’,” she said, kissing me on both cheeks.
She showed me around this elegant house, Carmela never leaving my side. Every time we stopped she’d jump on me again. When I asked to use the bathroom, she came too, not about to let me out of her sight. Try peeing with those eyes staring at you, paws the size of mitts resting on your thighs. I was thrilled, just not used to an audience, but determined to adjust. We’re both women, after all.
I took her for a forty minute walk only because it started to snow, and like most girls, Carm hates getting wet.
By the time we got back, her father was up so we had coffee together…me on the floor with Carmela on my lap trying to drink from my cup despite her dad scolding her in Spanish.
The nice thing for her is…their kitchen is on the second floor reached by a long staircase she can now climb. In the old house, she was only allowed on the first floor.
Have you ever seen a basset hound climb stairs? Imagine a giant caterpillar on speed. It’s pretty hilarious, and more so in her case since she looks over her shoulder to make sure you’re coming.
I hated leaving, but told her, I’d be back. We agreed if I so wanted, I’d come on Saturdays.
I left my house at 10, returning at 1:30 after taking the express from downtown Brooklyn getting me back home in thirty-five minutes. Wasn’t as scenic as walking across the Bridge, but fast.
I noticed there’s more spring in my step then there’s been since Monday, when Carm and her family left, so I think this trip to Brooklyn once a week may work out.
And who knows, it might just end up replacing ALEVE.