Friday Pick-Me-Up



I’m writing this post for me, as I sorely need it.


The petite gal shown in the photo above is Margene. She lives with my friend Betro. Margene and her sister (Roxy) are hilarious. And kind. And loving. And about a jillion other things pets are known for. When I visit Margene, she gets all excited and playful and her enthusiasm really perks me up. It would be easy to take her joy as something personal, but she doesn’t remember me from visit to visit. I know this. But Margene still manages to make me feel welcome and, I daresay, loved.


I’m sometimes jealous of my friends with pets. They receive unconditional love and devotion each and every day, no matter what’s going on in their lives or in the world. Pets don’t care about our screw-ups. They just care about us. When I think about that, I often wish I had it in my own home.


And then there are the other times. The times when I don’t have to arrange a pet-sitter, or when I don’t have to spend several thousand dollars to preserve a beloved pet’s health. Those times leave me feeling pretty free and easy. And I like that. A lot.


Six of one, half a dozen of another, I guess. When our yard gets fenced in (I’m praying to the garden gods), we may very well get a dog. We may very well not. I’m not sure. Either way, I get to visit Margene once in a while. I’ll take it.



When I got my hair cut the other day, some bimbo came into the salon with her damned dog in tow. This bothers me immensely, as it’s friggin’ illegal. Because she – the bimbo – insists on having a pet as a fashion accessory, she puts others in the awkward position of having to ask her to respect health codes, not to mention the other friggin’ clients. I know people with severe dog and cat allergies. They shouldn’t have to grab their over-priced epi-pens at the grocery store or at a salon. The bimbo I witnessed behaving like an entitled celebrity was definitely a celebri-not. My god. I felt so sorry for the person working on her hair, as he had to maneuver around her heart-shaped sunglasses, which she refused to remove. For the record, she didn’t come in wearing the sunglasses, and absolutely no one recognized her because she was just a chick. A rude chick.


Don’t get me wrong on the dog front. I like pets just fine. Visiting the pets of friends is darling, not to mention good for the soul. But there are rules, numb-nuts. How about you come down to earth with the rest of us and have a little respect. Damn.


I should be used to such behavior. I see it all the time in L.A. And it’s always eye-roll inducing. But I’m not used to it. And with very few exceptions, the only people who behave like entitled assholes are wanna-be jerks. Real people who’ve “made it” are generally regular folk. At least that’s been my experience. The problem is there are more celebri-nots than there are celebrities.


In honor of the legit stars, I offer you a photo taken during a major celebrity sighting…



That’s right. “Little Sebastian” of Parks and Recreation fame. I was honored to meet the little guy. And for the record, he could not have been more gracious and humble. The bimbos of Hollywood could learn a thing or two from his professional demeanor.

Sweet, Sweet Girkin



Last week I got some bad news. My friend’s dog, Girkin, passed away.


Girkin was one of my favorite dogs – period. He was one of those rare animals who belongs to no one. Instead, a whole lot of us humans belonged to him. Fortunately for me, I was one of those souls.


The Gurr was friendly and laid back. He was small in stature, but man was he the Top Dog! I remember a time when I was sitting on my friend’s front porch, waiting for her to come home. Girkin had found me there and was sitting, watching me. After a few minutes some large, strange dog came running up toward me, barking and growling. Without hesitation, Girkin jumped up in my lap and turned to face the scary dog. The Gurr barked so fiercely and assertively, the strange dog actually ran away. Girkin had protected me. I sat there a while longer. I remember I was dealing with something sad that day. Do you know that Girkin sat on my lap with his paw resting on my heart the entire time? It was one of the sweetest, most caring gestures I’ve ever known. And it was given to me by a dog.


My friend told me on the day of Girkin’s passing, she walked by a window and saw The Gurr lying on an outdoor sofa, asleep in the sun. She checked on him and realized he was gone. She said he looked content there in his usual spot. That he seemed to be at peace. I like the idea of that. And I like the idea of Girkin being young, happy and healthy. I hope he finds his human souls, wherever he may be. I know that here on earth, his people are nursing broken hearts over his passing. I certainly am.