"I didn't do it, mom... I'm innocent!"

Yeah, sure you didn't just rip up your favorite toy to shreads. But who can stay mad at that face?

It's so hard being a dog - sleeping all night and day

One of the reasons why I don't have kids right now is because I'm having way too much fun in New York. There's always a party to attend, a new restaurant to try, or a new adventure to go on.

Unfortunately, that fun affects the quasi-child that I have right now-my dog Chloe.

She's already alone for the entire workday (for me, that means until 6:30 p.m., for Brent that means until 10 p.m.) and there are many days in which I come home with enough time to change, take her outside to pee, and then leave her again. Poor baby.

So, I make it a point to take her wherever I can. If I want to meet up with a friend, I'll suggest a walk in Central Park so I can catch up with my friend while strolling around on a nice day or relaxing on a park bench and Chloe can keep an eagle-eye on the squirrels (the one she's not letting out of her sight at in the photo is up in a tree).

And because I live in New York, Chloe can go almost anywhere with me that doesn't serve or sell food. That means no restaurants (unless we sit outside, in which case dogs are allowed at many establishments) or grocery stores, but everything else is fair game. She most often accompanies me to Bed, Bath & Beyond, Best Buy, the bank, through the mall, and the liquor store. (Before we knew how dog-friendly New York is, a giant Great Dane scared the crap outta Brent as he was browsing through the racks at J Crew. Shirt, sweater, jeans, GIANT DROOLING DOG! Ha, ha!)

And since none of my friends have dogs (save the dog-sized cat that belongs to my college buddy, Ryan) they often ask me to bring her along when we're hanging out. So I took her down the street to my friend Janine's apartment to watch the Dolphins (Ryan's team) and Jets (Janine's team) battle it out during Monday night football, although the friendly banter between Ryan and Janine was much more fun to watch than the game. We ate pizza, fed Chloe probably two slices of pizza one morsel at a time, drank beer, and took turns petting the pup. (My dog knows how to get what she wants. The second someone stopped petting her, she simply walked a step or two to the nearest person who took their turn petting her, which went on and on until she started the round all over again.)

Come to think of it, it's not that bad of a life. Sleeping all day followed by Bed, Bath & Beyond, pizza, beer, and then bed. Sure beats work.

Too much fun at the dog park

Apparently, puppy energy was a bit too much for Chloe to handle. When we got home from the dog park yesterday, she started whimpering and acting like every muscle in her body ached.

Then I saw the blood. While she was darting around the cement-floored, fenced-in dog park, she scraped up her two rear two paw pads something fierce. But it was late, and all she wanted to do was lay down and lick her wounds, so I figured I'd reassess the situation in the morning.

The next day, she seemed sore, but OK. So I popped out for a few errands, and when I came back, there were bloody pawprints all over the kitchen and little patches of drying blood in her favorite spots. That's all I needed to see. We needed a vet anyway, so I called the one who helped me before I moved here when we thought we'd need to kennel Chloe for the holidays and they said I could come by in 45 minutes.

Unfortunately, it's 11 blocks away, so it was a hike, but Chloe handled it like a champ. But I knew she was in pain when we walked in to see the vet office's two resident cats wandering around and she barely even gave them a glance. Then I knew she must be in pain and nervous because she sensed she was at the vet's when one very brave black-and-white cat came up and sniffed Chloe nose-to-nose and she ignored it. She is a huuuuuge baby when it comes to messing with her at all - clipping her nails, taking her temperature, etc.

The vet said that the wound on her paw pad was like a callus that has been trimmed way to far. So he recommended that she get it wrapped with a soft cast. Other than that, he said she was healthy, but needed to toughen up because she's a New York dog now.

So she went in the back to get her cast and almost immediately, I heard yelping and yowling from my place in the waiting room. From the sound of it, they must have been drilling holes in my dog's head - it sounded that bad. Then the vet came out and said "You're right. She is a big baby. All we're doing is looking at it." Pathetic, isn't it?

So after 10 long minutes of hearing my dog yelp, she finally came out with a blue soft cast all the way up her leg. And she has to wear a baggie over it when we go outside and one of those lampshades if she starts picking at it. So while she's recooperating, I've been avoiding the other dogs in the building... for Chloe's sake.

I think she does these kinds of things on purpose because all I do is baby her. I give her extra treats and I'll make her favorite food and bring her dish to her while she's laying in bed so she doesn't even have to get up to eat. I don't even do that for Brent!

Now all I need is someone who will do this kind of stuff for me!

A day at the dog park

I've always been a dog person, but never realized there was such a dog culture until I actually had a dog of my own.

Before I got Chloe, my 3-year-old German Shepherd/Rottweiler mix, I used to admire other people's dogs as I passed them. Now, I walk with Chloe by my side more often than not. (OK, usually she's out on front of me or choking herself next to me because she wants to drag me along behind her and I'm holding her back. But anyway.) And even though it drives me crazy, we can't pass another person walking a dog without Chloe dragging me over to check it out. And there are a hell of a lot of other dogs walking around New York City - some seven at a time with dog walkers.

But because Chloe's always making me go up to strangers, it's a great conversation starter. And especially now, when I'm desperate to meet people, I'll talk to anyone.

So today, even though it was dreary and overcast, I thought it would be fun to take Chloe to the dog park five blocks away. I found out there was such a park a few days ago when I ran into the dog walker who walks Lucy every day. Lucy's a Chow mix who lives two doors down from Brent and I.

Corey, the dog walker and a former dog trainer, took pity on me when he saw how Chloe takes charge when we walk and showed me how to be the master. So we've been practicing.

So we practiced on the way to the dog park and Chloe met Bella, Brutus, Shelby, Ollie, Brooklyn, and Lauren. This is what's funny about the dog culture. I sat and talked with every single one of those dogs' owners about their dogs, professions, and the city in general, but have no idea what any of their names are, and none of them asked what my name was, but most asked what my dog's name was.

When I talked to Brutus's owner, he taught me how to facilitate Chloe's meeting other dogs because she tends to be on the aggressive side until the other dog knows that she's boss.

Shelby's owner confided in me that Ollie is not welcome at the dog park because he picks fights and his owners let him do it. She steered her Australian Shepherd mix away from Ollie while he sniffed around and told me about the time he had another dog cornered and the day she and the other dog owners called the police on his owners.

Then in came Brooklyn and Lauren, who are six months old and eight months old, respectively. Chloe L-O-V-E-S puppies, so for the next 30 minutes, I watched her and the puppies tear around the dog park, barking and nipping at each other. It was so cute.

After Chloe was sufficiently covered in mud, dirt, slobber, and rainwater, we headed home to dry off and chill for the rest of the evening.