You know this shirts with “I (Heart) New York?” They should make one with “I (Unhappy Face) New York,” just for me.

This place is insane! Besides the $20 worth of tolls it takes to get here from Philadelphia and the never-ending $8 Holland Tunnel and the rude drivers and impenetrable throngs of people, there is absolutely no grass in this city! Where is a girl like Loren to do her business?

Before actually arriving in Manhattan, I got all teary-eyed when we saw the skyline from the highway. I never really thought I would make it here, all the way from California. There’s something magnificent about those skyscrapers poking their way heavenward, a sense of promise and excitement. Knowing that so many people started their American journey here from other countries.

Start spreading the news...Michelle & Loren are in NYC!

After going through the long, dark Holland Tunnel, where I was the only person (dork) who honked, we made some twists and turns and were quickly on Broadway and in the thick of things. The streets were teeming with people, coming from every direction, of every shape, size, and nationality. Never have I seen such crowds, not at the U2 concert at Dodger Stadium, not at Santa Monica Beach on the most perfect day, not at the anti-Iraq war protest in downtown Los Angeles. This was a different entity altogether.

Sunday afternoon madness

Then there was the driving. We made our way through traffic that doesn’t obey signals or appreciate a sense of order. Flashes of yellow from all four corners, honking, pushing, squeezing into impossibly tight spots, cutting me off. I quickly realized it was kill or be killed and so fortified by a Venti Starbucks green tea and lemonade, I jumped into this real-life game of Frogger with an intensity that surprised me. Soon, I was honking, cussing, and acting like a native.

Our destination was Happy Paws Pet Resort, which thank God had it’s own parking “lot,” a strip of asphalt the size of residential driveways in Southern California, but at least I didn’t have to find a spot on the street.

Loren was greeted by a quarter of staff and volunteers from Animal Alliance Foundation, who were anticipating our visit. They were holding a microchip clinic for the area, which attracted 26 participants. Barbara and Shawn Tolan are brother and sister, their father, Tim, was also there, as was Daniel Rivera, a vet tech. All are pit bull lovers and owners.

"You may hate NY, but I kinda like it here..."

“People contact me all the time about neglect situations. My sister’s neighbor had a pit bull puppy that were they threatening to throw out in the streets when they moved,” Daniel said. “I asked them to bring her to me instead. I could tell she’d been abused, she was hand shy and got scared over loud noises.”

The dog is now one-years old, a red-nosed pit named Ginger who is clearly the apple of her new daddy’s eye if the way her treats Loren is any indication. After Loren was groomed by a kind lady named Lisa, a California expatriate who did the service for free since she is a rescue dog, Loren was sitting in Daniel’s lap, belly exposed, getting kisses and belly rubs at the same time.

"Nirvana!"

While Loren was getting her bath, I took to Broadway, home of Bloomingdales and Dean and Deluca, and shopped like a girly girl, picking up a pair of dark Levis, two shirts, a strappy pair of Kenneth Cole heels, and a pair of earrings for $100! Of course, I had to try a sidewalk hot dog. It was pretty good, but they didn’t have chili…or cheese…so I got mustard and sauerkraut instead.


The quintessential NY street meal

At one point, there was a gorgeous brunette couple on the street in front of me, the man even prettier than the woman, while on the sidelines, an elderly man searched the trash bins for food, his tongue sticking out. Models and madmen, mixed in with moms who push strollers in high heels.

Though Loren had a hard time parting with her new friends at Happy Paws, I was ready to check into our hotel. Two families from North Carolina were parked in front of me, leaving me a tiny wedge to sit and wait for them to unload pillows, a cooler, and a fan, as well as enough luggage for three weeks. Minutes passed - and the owners of the Honda Civic I was parked precariously close to arrived - unhappy and impatient.

One of the southern ladies helped me maneuver out of the tight spot and avoid hitting the Honda. Sigh. By the time the gray-haired Italian doorman came over to help me unload, I wanted to unload more than the baggage. How about that I hated his city and wanted to go home to California, where parking is plentiful and most people don’t drive with murderous intent?

“That’s a good looking dog,” he said, immediately putting me at ease and focused on something other than my extreme annoyance.

“Thank you,” I said.

“I had a dog that looked just like her, but he passed away,” he said. “His name was Stallion, because he was a magnificent animal. There will never be another like him.”

The doorman became my fast friend, directing me to the parking lot across the street where I had to leave my car ($40 per day!), as well as some places to take Loren for potty breaks.

People here consider planters as parks - my kind doorman and two others directed me to streets with nothing resembling lawns, just little patches of dirt with a few vines, some were even fenced! WTF?

After two miles of this, I stopped and started to cry. I hated this place. I wanted to go home. I wanted my boyfriend, my dogs, and people that would smile when they saw me, not look away, if they bothered to look at all. I wanted to be on my hiking trail in the mountains, with nothing but the sounds of nature to soothe me, silly little Buster trotting free at my side. I wondered why the hell I was here in the first place.

I took a deep breath and composed myself. Loren was waiting patiently by my side, panting from all the exercise and, I’m sure, the manic energy that surrounded us both. For a country girl, she took to the city with a fair amount of ease - stopping at lights (unlike the rest of the masses), avoiding the grates whenever possible, and, when we were at the hotel, deciding finally that elevators were not the enemy and trotting right in.

She even managed the revolving doors as if she‘d been doing it all her life. Loren laid on the cool marble floor when we checked in. Two guys called to her from the bar and she would’ve gone to have a drink with them, had I let her. Hussy.

We finally went to Central Park, seven blocks away, because Loren will poop on the street, but not pee (!). I was so excited when I saw the actual grass - then I saw fences. The grass was gated off! At least for the first 100 yards. I wanted to scream and probably should’ve. No one would have noticed anyway.

"Go ahead and scream...I've got your back!"

I may hate NY, but I love Loren. Her happy, toothy grin always brings me back to gratitude. She seems to be having a good time, so I decided to adopt her attitude, but it’s hard because I also have to think like a dog - which means being on hyper-alert about what’s in front of me and look out for other critters on the horizon. I can’t ever relax. No wonder she sleeps 20 hours a day.


"Stressed? Fugudaboutit!"

Since the city doesn’t take kindly to pooches eating on patios with their owner, I ordered a falafel combo plate from a friendly street vendor. He had the full set up - scooping up the falafel mixture and frying it on the spot, adding grilled veggies atop saffron rice, and big squirts of yogurt and hot sauce. Best falafel ever. Brought it back to the room and watched the action at Times Square from the comfort of my tenth-story room. We watched the Tony Awards on TV, which where taking place just a few blocks over.

Central Park was our first stop this morning. Fairly uneventful, even with an unleashed Weimer Reiner playing a little too close by and a pug that had free run of the paved area. Several homeless men and women lined the benches, looking on with dead eyes. The streets were alive with the sound of traffic, sirens, and construction at 7:30 a.m.

At 10, we met with Jennifer Bristol at Animal Haven, a no-kill rescue in NoHo.


"Who is that big guy trying to steal my thunder?"

Encased in warm wood, the store front had an elegant feel. Tiny kittens played in the window display, which rapidly caught Loren’s attention.


"How much are those kittens in the window?"

This SoHo shelter had a loft-like feel, three stories, with dogs and cats housed on three floors. The dogs get walked four times a day by a roster of volunteers and are also worked with by an in-house trainer.

I asked her if Loren would suffer as a result of being so close to me for seven weeks, then being returned to a kennel.

“We’ll she’ll have some separation issues at first, just like your dogs would if they spent every waking minute with you and then it stopped,” she said. “But she’ll adjust. They’re not like us. You’re doing here a lot of good, being exposed to different situations.”

Big smile.

Right now, Animal Haven has 19 dogs, including a two litters of adorable lab and mixed breed puppies, as well as 20 cats. A beautiful female Aussie mix looked up at me with her one blue and one brown eye.

“She’s going home tomorrow with her new family,” Jennifer said proudly. They have a high adoption rate, including the pit bulls they take in from city shelters and owner surrenders.

They also have a store that carries animal food, toys, and bedding, and encourages customers to bring their small dogs in for playtime.

“It’s a way to get the community in rescue involved without beating them over the head,” Jennifer said. “I bought dogs 15 years ago. I didn’t know that there was another way. People come in here and say, ’I didn’t know I could get a Maltese or a Pug through shelters!’”

Steve Gruber from Animal Alliance, who had initially invited us to Animal Haven, and Carrie Hyman of Silver PR had also come down to meet Loren. Both sat on the floor and loved on Loren as we talked rescue.

 
"Rescue people rule!"

We shared a cab ride back.

 
"Does the paparazzi never stop?"

Looks like we’ve made new friends in New York. I guess it’s not all bad here.

  
"You're still my best GF, Aunt Michelle!"

 (P.S. Awesome news - Loren has an adoption application pending in Santa Clarita, close to The Brittany Foundation, where she lives. Nancy, the founder, emailed all of us volunteers today. The home seems to be a good one - retired lady, previous pit owner. She knows Loren is on our journey and can’t wait to meet her when we get back! Yeah!J )