I’m always saying that Raymond seems to like everyone better than me.

When people come to visit he hops and jumps on them.

When I come home, nuthin’.

Well this morning something wonderful happened.

David sent me an email, “Coffee?”

This means come on over and sit on my terrace while I read aloud parts of the paper that insult Obama.

“Sure” I said, “My coffee will be ready in a minute but I’ll bring the boys over.” which I did.

Elvis casually sauntered over while Ray ran over and jumped around David trying to kiss him.

Then I went back to my house and got my coffee.

It was about 10 minutes until I returned.

When I did, Raymond was sitting on David’s lap looking tiny.

As soon as he saw me he jumped off and ran to me jumping and hopping.

That’s when I realized. Maybe he doesn’t get excited when I come home because he expects me to be there. When I left him alone at David’s, maybe he was afraid that I was going to leave him there just as he’d been left before.

I’m not worried any more. I know my dog  loves me as much as I loved him the moment Julie showed me the picture of of him in the pound.

I was never good at demanding that those in my life behave well. I don’t run a tight ship.

I had a husband that dated. I really should have said no to that.

I have a cat that sits on my keyboard when I’m trying to write.  I’ve been meaning to put my foot down on that.

But anyone can change.  I’m not the same person I was.

I do all kinds of things that I thought I couldn’t which is why I am celebrating my recent achievement.

My dog has the good sense to look guilty when I catch him on the dining room table.

Before I start writing I’m going to show you an adorable photo of my pets taking a nap because that’s what I want you to remember after you read this.

Now some history. I’ve always been a little strange, ask anyone in my family. Actually that doesn’t have anything to do with what I’m going to say.  I think I’ll start again.

I hate being bored.

Walking a dog is kind of boring so I always  bring a book and read while I walk. I had a dog for 14 years, Harry, and I read while I walked him. I have excellent peripheral vision. I never bump into anything.

I did get somewhat of a reputation in my neighborhood as the girl who’s always reading on dog walks. Clearly it isn’t something that a lot of people do.

Anyway now that I have Raymond I’ve picked up my old habit.

I’m reading a particularly good book now, a mystery by Karin Slaughter so when Ray nudged me to go out I was happy to do it.

Out we went, up 58th street to Second Avenue then downtown to 57th Street. At the corner of 57th and Second I had to look up from my book because we were planning on crossing the street when the light changed.

While we were waiting I happened to glance down at my feet. It seems I was wearing two different shoes.

I decided to cut the walk short and return home. I was really unnerved.

The only thing that made me feel better was that at least the two shoes were so similar that only the most attentive passerby would notice.

Liz and David are coming back from Santa Fe tomorrow. I’m really happy but not nearly as happy as Raymond and Elvis will be.

A good part of their day is sauntering down the hall to visit the neighbors.

I love my pets so much even if they fill me with angst.

I took Raymond mainly because he looked so skinny and sad behind the bars and they were going to kill him but also because I assumed that Elvis was bored with only me. I noticed how he perked up when he found a bug on the terrace.

Well Elvis has absolutely bloomed with the addition of Ray. He watches him all the time and keeps getting closer and closer to him. I even saw him kiss Ray  (if cats kiss, I know nothing about them) when he was asleep.

Now I worry about Ray. Is he happy? Does he wish I’d take him back to his previous owner? After all he doesn’t know that they put him in a kill shelter. Will my craziness mean that I have to get an armadillo to keep him company and then a turtle for the armadillo (whose name will be Anthony)?

When I think of it Ray gets really happy when he sees David. Will David fill that empty spot in Ray’s heart?

Remember I said that you never really know what a new dog is thinking. Is it possible that Ray sees something in David that he admires?  I know that he’s an elitist like David.

He never looks directly at Elvis. It’s almost like he thinks Elvis is beneath his consideration.

Is he a racist?

When we went to Stephanie’s house, he played with the pure bred dog, Lucy, but I never saw him even acknowledge her other dog, Theo, who appears to have a touch of something else in his breeding giving him long legs which, though shapely, suggest a touch of , shall we say, a dalliance of his mother with someone other than another Jack Russell?

And though Ray likes to snuggle up with me at night and will occasionally drop a toy at my feet, I do notice a certain air of contempt when I talk to him. I almost feel like he considers me “help”.

Does he, like David, think that the fact that I couldn’t point out Omaha on a map is an intellectual weakness?

Look, I’m not going to drive myself nuts with this. I found a way to get along with David, I’ll find a way to get along with Ray.

And respect isn’t everything.

Besides maybe taking a peek at the map of the United States wouldn’t kill me.

OR I could just never mention Omaha.

When you get a pet from the pound you never know what they’re thinking.

Yesterday I took Raymond back up to Stephanie’s.

It’s paradise for any dog I’ve ever known. She has land and dogs and cats and donkeys and horses and she serves lunch to her pet guests.

Even though Ray did a lot of crying last time we went there I figured that now that he knows the place, he won’t be scared.

It was a good sign that when we got to the car he jumped right in but as soon as I started driving he began to fidget. He never sat down the entire way and did plenty of crying.

When we arrived he jumped out of the car and walked around. He spent the day looking kind of sad, until lunch that is. He likes his meals.

He played with the girl dog occasionally but mostly he just walked around looking sad and crying, not constantly but enough to let me know that there was something lacking.

I said to Steph “Doesn’t he know I saved him?”

She answered, “Maybe he thinks you “took” him”.

The only time he perked up was when I went to the car to leave. He jumped in but then he cried most of the way home.

When we got home he was his old happy (well not sad) self. He snuggled up against me and went into a sound snoring sleep.

After all it’s very tiring to fuck up a day in the country.

It’s July 3, the beginning of the holiday weekend.  Everyone I know is away.

The City is empty. I love when it’s like that. I’m going to put my time to good use. I’m going to make sure my dog isn’t a pussy just because his brother is one.

I started training him last night.

Julie, Violet and I were sitting on the couch.

Ray was staring at the wheat thin I was eating. I decided no time like the present.

I held up the wheat thin, “Sit”

He stared at me blankly without moving.

“Good boy” I gave him the wheat thin.

Perfect. Who wants one of those ass kissy little trick dogs?

Now if I can just teach him not to fetch.

That’s not going to be that easy. You can’t put anything down without the little bastard bringing it to you and dropping it at your feet.

So I get into bed last night. Ray jumps in before me and spreads out in the only place that will make it impossible for me to lie down in one piece.

I start mumbling to myself something about having rights too when I have one of my epiphanies.

I could ask him to move. In fact he’s a little dog. I could move him.

So I picked him up and put him over to the other side of the bed while explaining the concept of coexistence, something that he obviously flatly refused to embrace because he just went back to his original space.

You know it’s very comfortable sleeping across the top of the bed where the pillows usually go.

If you people have ever read my niece Julie’s book “Please Excuse My Daughter” (and if you haven’t go right out and get it because it’s a laugh riot) you know about the unfortunate relationship she had with an ex con (nothing violent, just a bank robber) who took her for thousands of dollars.

I say “took her” when in fact she lent it to him to rescue a member of his family or something. Considering the fact that in her early twenties she and I spent years playing cards and watching “Judge Judy” I can’t tell you how disappointed I was in her for being so stupid.

But I digress. Every once in awhile she must regret both her dopiness and the loss of money that she could really use now. I was proven right when she called me the other night at about 8 p.m.

It seems that Violet was visiting her father and Julie was working on her new book while  sipping wine (I’m guessing) when she too got an epiphany (we get a lot of them in our family).

I answer the phone, no hello, no nothing, “I have a plan”

“And it is?”

“Let’s go to Brooklyn and get my money back from that fucker”

“Sounds good, when?”

“Now?”

“I like it but maybe tomorrow would be better”

“Right, bye”

“Bye”

When I spoke to her the next morning she wasn’t sure of the details but she did recall phoning her friend Jancee when I didn’t deliver.

When Jancee saw Julie’s name on the caller id she was alarmed.

“Are you alright?”

“Sure, why?”

“It’s 8 o’clock”

Jancee is a very close friend and she knew Julie’s limits. When Jancee worked for Rolling Stone she’d hire Julie to interview celebrities but it had to be before her, Julie’s, bedtime or else she’d go in her pajamas with a coat over them.

The point of this story?

I can’t imagine how much wine I’d have to drink before I’d call my Aunt Iola to include her in rounding up a posse.

I think that I only really understand people from New York. Not just Jews because an Irish guy from the Bronx is more familiar to me than a Rabbi from Oklahoma. Are there Rabbis in Oklahoma?

Anyway that could be one reason why I didn’t see my marriage breaking up. dave was from Kentucky and you know how wily people from Kentucky are.

I had an interesting evening yesterday.

David’s son Graham is moving to Atlanta. I had offered to drive him and his father and Graham’s clothes up to Connecticut since he would be renting a van from there to make the drive to his new home.

The plan was that we would all go up and have dinner with their longtime friends, Donna and Robert then David and I would drive home without Graham.

But as luck would have it, David called and said he would take the train because as usual he was in “deep shit” at work and he had to straighten it out before he could leave.

When I heard that I realized that he wouldn’t be coming up until late and I’d have to drive home in the dark so I decided to drop Graham off and get out before David got there because he’d never let me leave at a reasonable hour.

But first we, Graham, Donna And Robert and I sat down on their patio and enjoyed a glass of wine.

Let me describe Donna and Robert. They are both extremely good looking people and they appear to be very well suited even though they couldn’t be more different.

Donna is from Atlanta. She’s very pretty and she’s very tiny and never stops moving. She talks very fast and seems to skip from one subject to another without a pause. Here’s something I’ve never said about a grown woman. She’s so cute and not in a yucky way. I kept wanting to hug her.

Now because I know about her from David I don’t just dismiss her as a sweet southern belle. The woman has a mind like a steel trap. She’s a brilliant business woman who does something with money or futures or pork bellies.

Her husband, who is also a looker, just sat there smiling fondly while she talked. He’s a minister and couldn’t be calmer if he had just downed six valium. I don’t know where he’s from but I would guess another land other than NYC.

Donna was telling us that her mother, who lives in Atlanta, is moving from her huge home to transitional living and she had been down there helping her dispose of the things she wouldn’t be taking with her.

“She wants me to have some of her things. It’s very important to her. She particularly wants me to take her sideboard. I like my sideboard better but I don’t want to hurt her so I’m going to take it.”

“No problem” I say  “Just shove it in the garage”

“Oh I couldn’t do that. She’d be devastated if she came here and saw that I wasn’t using it. What I’m planning to do is put my sideboard in storage and use her sideboard until she dies and then take my sideboard back. Do you think that’s too mean?”

At first I thought she was only kidding. Too mean? Here’s where the geographical disconnect is and it starts with the term “too mean”.

“How is that mean?”

“Well I’d be deceiving her”

“So? Let me give you an example of too mean. If someone cuts in line in front of me at Whole Foods and I pull out  a shiv, though my reaction is warranted, some might say it’s an over reaction and if I actually cut the person others might consider it too mean.”

From the looks on their faces I could see that they weren’t getting me any more than I was getting them.

I left soon after and didn’t feel comfortable until I got on the FDR Drive and someone gave me the finger for not changing lanes fast enough.

My most recent anxiety stemmed from whether Raymond will get along with Stephanie’s dogs.

I had a few clues that that wouldn’t be the case because when I walk him and another dog passes he flies through the air snarling at that dog. Only the leash keeps him from doing twenty to life.

Another thing about going to Steph’s is that Ray doesn’t particularly like me. Maybe that’s a bit too strong. He doesn’t dislike me, I’m just not number one on his list. I’m afraid that if I let him out at her house he won’t come back to me.

It wasn’t a promising start. When we got to the garage he didn’t want to get in the car and he cried the whole way up.

I was talking to my sister telling her that he doesn’t seem like a happy dog. I feel like he’s always waiting for me to take him home. I was a case worker in the South Bronx for many years and I know that even kids that were ignored or abused still preferred their own homes to the best foster care.

Marcia said maybe I just got a dog that keeps muttering “Woe is me”. That just could be his way.

I just wanted him to bond to me.

We got to Steph’s and I let him out of the car. I could go over how the dogs sniffed each other and even growled but eventually played together and it’s true but I don’t want to get another comment from David saying how boring I’m getting.

I will say this though. When it was time to leave Raymond ran ahead of me and jumped in the car.

I guess he knows I’m his after all.

Being a single mother isn’t easy. If I had a husband like that Duggar dame I wouldn’t complain about having too many kids but me alone and with 2 different species, that’s no picnic.

One guy wants to get on the bed, the other guy says something to the tune of “Try it and you’ll have only one buggy eye instead of two”.

They eventually both do hop up but they stay as far from each other as possible. Oh why can’t they act like brothers???

In addition to this I’m a working mother. At twenty five cents a word I’ve got to spit out the equivalent word count of the Declaration of Independence once a month just to afford the band aids that I have to put on number one son’s emphasis points on my arms.

Today I sent in my first payment request. It  came back 3 times. I’m beginning to think it’s some kind of scam.

Now that I think of it, I’ve never been to a Yahoo. Do I know for a fact that there’s really any such thing? Just askin’

It finally went through. Maybe Yahoo does exist.

Last night I had sleep over company. Julie and Violet and Violet’s friend Janelle were my guests.

While we awaited Janelle’s arrival I noticed that Violet had brought her record player and LP’s with her.

All I gotta say is that when I was 10 the only music I listened to was the music of the day, Frankie Avalon, Elvis etc.

I know that Violet marches to her own drummer but I figured the chance of two of them being that odd were almost nil so in an effort to save her from some heartbreak,  I posed the following:

“Say Vi, do you think that Janelle will enjoy listening to Miles and Thelonious Monk?”

She didn’t even look up. “She will by the end of the visit.”

I was wondering if I was ever that confident. I was never a trend setter. I always wanted to fit in.

I still remember when I was in the sixth grade and my friend and I got the same shirts. My friend was built like Bridget Bardot and I was still wearing undershirts in the shape of bras.

Luckily I had sisters. They advised me to pick another girl to twin up with if I was going out in public.

I know you think that was harsh but though I may have been a joiner  I was also smart. I immediately saw the reality in that and never wore that shirt again.

In case you’re interested both girls were listening to Monk and Miles well into the night.

Never in a million years would I have hung out with those two dorks when I was their age.