I remember when my mother and her friends used to get together.

They’d play cards, eat, chat about their kids, tear apart whichever friend couldn’t make it that day. Ya know just be girls.

Yesterday a few of the “Girls” came over to my apartment. One girl was visiting from another land, Hawaii, and she wanted to catch up with some of the friends she hadn’t seen for awhile.

Susan actually organized it but it was at my house because as she explained to the others, “Mattie doesn’t like to leave her dog”

There were 5 of us, all connected to the music business in some way, either through work, marriage or previous marriage.

This wasn’t exactly like my mother’s get togethers.  I may have heard her and her pals discuss their home remedies for stress but I don’t think “blow”was one of them.

Except for Susan I don’t really know the other women well and her telling them that I didn’t like to leave my dog might have given them an idea that I’m not all there.

Liz, the girl from Hawaii seemed more than amused by the dog carriage in the corner.

“No kidding, that’s for your dog?”

That’s when I took out the vodka.

Everything seemed to be going well until the dog that I” didn’t like to leave” ruined it by bringing every toy he has to the feet of the ladies and barking incessantly until someone threw  it.

I tried to distract him by feeding him cheese and crackers but it only quieted him while he was chewing.

“You feed him cheese and crackers?”

I mumbled something about “only when there’s company”

More vodka.

Ray would simply not stop barking. He had finished the brie and was giving the Jarlesburg the glad eye so I resorted to something I had read somewhere about quieting your dog.

I put my face close to his and screamed “Shut the fuck up you fuckhead”.

Then I gave him some more brie.

As I’ve always said any time with my sister Marcia is a real treat.

I prefer her coming to the City but every once in awhile I have to go to see her where she lives in Upstate New York. (READER: the word “Upstate”is very important. Think “Arkansas”)

I chose this weekend because I wanted to see my brother in law  Paul who was performing at a soirée given by a lovely woman who invites as many as 40 people to her home to dine and  hear music.  Anyone who chooses can get up on stage and do his or her thing and several people do.

Paul has always been funny but at the age of 80 he discovered that he could sing and that soiree has been his monthly gig for the past year or so. He tells jokes and finishes up with a couple of songs. He has fun and the crowd loves him.

My sister is not much like me. Which is why she chose to live in the country. I am strictly City Girl but I love her so much that I’m willing to brave the dangers of her town to be with her.

I wasn’t there for 15 minutes when I was attacked by a snake. When I say attacked I mean one slithered past me. Try not getting the vapors after something like that.

Ray was not happy there. Mainly because my sister has two dogs, Vinnie and Sally, that have the idea that any dog  visiting should welcome licks and hugs.

Ray is not a dog’s dog. He tried ignoring them.  After all he was a guest. When that didn’t work he snapped and got up on a chair.

Since for some odd reason those dogs aren’t allowed on the furniture they couldn’t find him there.

This chair thing became quite an issue. Not only the dogs, but Marcia and Paul sat wherever they pleased without having the good grace to see if the space was occupado.

In spite of the abuse that Ray suffered we had quite a nice time. He was proud that in just a few short days he trained my brother in law to say nothing when he was fed steak under the table during dinner.

Now if Marcia and Paul could just get the chair thing right he’d have been a happy camper.

It’s been exactly 2 years since the word SAFE was put on Ray’s death row picture. That is the day he moved in.

He was agreeable from the beginning. Not effusive mind you but polite and pleasant.

He was really skinny and tried very hard not to be a bother. If I were a different person he could have been trained to fetch, sit and do the laundry. That’s how amenable he was to fitting in.

And fit in he did. He realized after awhile, quite rightly, that we would share a bed, most meals and an ice cream pop before we went to sleep.

He didn’t request it but I’m sure that he appreciated that even though he was very housebroken I left my terrace door open 24/7 so he wouldn’t have to stress.

That wasn’t as easy as it sounds. When certain people in my family ( I won’t mention names, Cheryl) came to visit they tried very hard to make me close the door when the temperature went to -10.

Even when I proved that Ray enjoyed his nightly toilet (pronounced twah-let) :

That unnamed person (Cheryl) could get ugly.

He became more and more comfortable with the living situation.

Slowly he caught on that simply staring at something would make me get up and give it to him.

Into the second year he let it be known that me sleeping past 6 am was beginning to irritate him so he’d either tap me at the bottom of the bed where he had shoved me or stand by the bedroom door shrieking in a tone that I believe he picked up from a pekinese that he had tried to attack on 59th Street.

I first saw his picture on June 6, 2014.

It was then that I knew that I had to save a life.

Mine.