Poor old Fucky’s fading. He grumbles or yipes if touched in the wrong spot. I heat up his meals and hand feed him so as to provide the maximum calories, but the truth his, the old boy has begun his inevitable march toward death.

He still has some really good days, which I appreciate more and more. It’s hard to see your beloved woofie of 13 some odd years slowly begin the downward spiral. I’ve watched too many dogs go through it to imagine it anything less than total heartbreak. He still Alpha’s the little bitches with a well-timed bark here and there, holds himself proudly and trots on my riverside walks late at night. Yulia keeps his coat beautiful and soft.

It’s hard to describe the feeling of having a dog who loves you unconditionally if you’ve never been a dog owner. I know people talk about their children in the same vein. I work on my patience while he sniffs around his bowl, launching the occasional (and nasty) dog food projectile my way. The selfish little bitches are always there to eat up any leftovers or lick his nasty dog food bowl clean.

He’s so content somehow, despite all his various ailments. And if forced to pull the Alpha card, he readily does so. The poor old bastard is such a finicky eater, and yet even after a bowlful of beef broth, (aka Dog Grog), he holds his pee in until the last minute, in search of the perfect tree.

I’ve vowed to never take the woofies to the Hudson River Park again on a weekend day… too many children want to pet the big fluffy one, before I offer up the consolation prize, Sir Sophie. Like Sophie, Delilah’s wonderful with children as well. Fucky not so much so - hell, not even close.

Today a beautiful little Indian girl begged to pet Lucky, casting off the Sophie choice like so much flotsom. I had to hold on to Fucky’s mouth and give him a nice ear scratchy while she pet his fluffy butt and giggled.

I saw Times Square Harry again today, he was laying on goose shit central with numerous others and speaking to some guy about his bike. The girls practically drag me to Harry if they catch wind of him. Same thing with the reopening of the Pony Bar on 10th and 45th? Dan the dog treat man / proprietor always comes running out with treats for the woofies, which has caused Delilah, the whore, to meander into the bar on numerous occasions.

It sure would be nice if they could fine SRO’s for these homeless men and women to stay in. Lucky’s been told of a new fan group, apparently the Church of Peter the Apostle and Jesus’ Holy Selfless  Benediction has formed a book group with the sole intention of reading Lorna Bobbits “work”. We’ll just see how that goes. Until then, good night.