Dog Show

I’ve seen a few dogs in the theater over the years, but the one I spotted recently really stands out.

This was the real thing--as in the four-legged kind--a little lap dog I had the pleasure of meeting on my birthday last month while attending a performance of Long Day’s Journey into Night at the Brooklyn Academy of Music.

This little fellow—I think he was a fellow—was perched on the lap of a woman sitting in the audience and I spotted them as I was returning to my seat during intermission.

I know I’ve mentioned this before, but I always feel comfortable talking to total strangers in the theater.

Perhaps it’s because of the live actors on the stage or the fact that we all share a love for this singular art form, but, whatever the reason, I can chat up people I’ve never met before in a way that I wouldn’t even think of doing in a multiplex.

So, when I saw this lady and her dog, I just had to stop and talk.

“Is that a comfort dog?” I asked.

“No,” the lady said in a distinct southern accent. “I’m allergic to kiwi and he reacts in case it’s in my food.”

The poor lady, who was named Mary, told me that she almost died twice when her throat closed up due to a reaction to kiwi. Clearly that little doggie has a big job.

“And what part of Brooklyn are you from?” I asked, unable to fight my smart-ass instincts.

Mary laughed and told me that she was a retired school teacher from Georgia who had decided to stop whistling Dixie, pull up stakes, and relocate to New York City.

Yes, this loony bin that so many retirees can’t wait to flee is this lady’s retirement destination—a kind concrete Boca Raton.

Quitting Time

“I don’t know too many people who actually retire to New York,” I said.

“If I had retired to southern Georgia like so many of other people,” Mary said, “my biggest decision would be where I’d be having dinner tonight. Here, there’s so much to do and so many things to see.”

She was right about that and I think Mary appreciated New York in a way that a lot of Big Apple natives don’t—including, at times, yours truly.

I’m slowly getting out into the world after my fall in December, but prior to that I know I spent far too many weekends sitting in front of the TV watching old movies.

The only good thing about the accident, if there is such a thing, was that it happened during the winter, so I didn’t feel like I was missing much. But now I’m sticking around the house even though the weather was warm.

There have been a few blips here and there. I went to the WWOW show a few weeks ago to enjoy the actors performing old timey radio programs. I hadn’t gone to one of these events in a while, and this performance was the last one of the season, so I’m glad I went.

Last weekend my sister and I went to a silent disco event on the 69th Street pier, which is a five-minute walk from my house.

I’ve been meaning to attend one of these things—where you get the music through headphones rather than through booming speakers—so this was a good chance to scratch it off my list.

It was kind of weird watching people get down in total silence and the headphones became uncomfortable after a while, but I did try it. The next day we all went the Public Theater to see Cypress Avenue, a very good, but very disturbing play.

And today I went to a friend’s birthday party in Park Slope and had way too much wine.

I gave Mary my card before going back my seat and told her that she was welcome to join me and my family on our theater excursions.

I haven’t heard for her, but I’m glad I made the offer and I’m very grateful that I met her.