The Ferry, The Rat, and The Boiler

Today, I took Daisy to the dog park in Battery Park City. To get there, I had to bundle me up (I've been sick but more about that later), bundle Daisy up, pack a bag with a bottle of water, dog poo baggies, etc., and-- the dreaded muzzle. Now our whole experience with the muzzle thus far had been one little day of experimentation where we went for a walk and I died laughing because Daisy was so darn pitiful. She would go up to any and everyone hoping someone would take pity and remove the dreaded muzzle. No such luck, but E for Effort!! So I took the muzzle in the bag, intending to try and get away with not putting it on her. We get to the ferry with about five minutes to boarding and the bomb labradors have a wild fit of rage at the new comer, barking and growling and lunging at one very terrified Daisy. Then the guard tells me we have to board on the lower level with the strollers, invalids, and bikes. So we find the stairs, walk around and find the lower entrance to the ferry. The guards out front make the usual comments (What a pretty dog! She is so big! etc.) in addition to informing me that she would require the muzzle. As I dig in the bag for the muzzle, they make small talk (How old is she? What breed is she?) and one funny guy informs me that he thinks they made a new rule-- owners need to have matching muzzles. I told him I didn't have one and begged for mercy. He said he'd give me a pass just for today. So, muzzle on and laughing, Daisy and I board the ferry.

Daisy does not like the ferry. It is loud and full of strange people and smells and no traction. She is quivering and whining and breathing faster than a mouse's heartbeat. I finally take her outside and she calms down a bit when she can see the water. She looks through the funny little portholes (Is that the right word for them?), watches the seagulls, and continues to whine but at least she is panting less. The guard told me if she was friendly I could take the muzzle off once I was actually on the ferry. Daisy has never seemed more relieved than the moment that dreaded muzzle slid off her snout. So then I discovered that as long as I don't try to sit down, she will be calm. As long as she is walking, she is fine. But the moment Mama wants a rest, Daisy has a panick attack. Ok. I can walk circles around a boat for thirty minutes. Sure. Bright side: She is becoming much more adept at meeting new people and not being afraid.

The dog park was fine, there was room for her to run but only one big dog for her to play with (in addition to half a dozen smaller dogs that frightened Daisy into hiding behind my legs.) Then the ferry ride back, much easier than the ferry ride over. I knew what to expect, but again, I couldn't sit down for long. I met a nice couple that pet her and loved on her, asked me all kinds of questions and suggested a few other dog parks to try. I tell you what, my dog is a trooper. From flying halfway across the country to learning how to live in Staten Island, to learning to get along with new people and go with whatever I throw at her, my dog is a trooper.

Oh and the same funny guard on the way back asked where my matching muzzle was. I kindly reminded him of the pass he gave me today. He then offered to buy me one for Christmas. I refrained from reminding him that Christmas is not for another ten months. I just laughed and Daisy and I headed for home.

-=-

I saw my first subway rat the other day. This thing was enormous!!! Its body had to be ten inches long and its tail a good foot. It was bigger than most purse dogs in Manhattan. The thing was disgusting. And braver than any rodent I've ever witnessed. This rat was just chillin' on the platform searching for food, not minding the throngs of people in the least.

It was funny to watch the reactions. The women were scared. The men didn't notice. The tourists took pictures. The natives just took him in stride, veering imperceptibly if at all around this gigantic mutated subway rat. I have never seen anything like it. Although, surprisingly enough, no one screamed. Not one screamer in the whole blasted subway. I admit, I was a bit disappointed.

-=-

My other newest experience is of being sick in a New York apartment building. We don't have central air or heat. We have window units and a boiler. It's nice not having to pay for heat and water and all, but really, the boiler has one temperature-- boiling. This is no exaggeration. I can walk around my apartment in a camisole and the shortest shorts I own and be sweating like an Olympian when it's negative-something degrees outside. The only way to turn down the heat? Open the windows. So it's become a skill of mine to adjust the window to just how much air I need in the house. The problem is, it's almost always raining, especially at night. So there is dry heat from radiators and hot pipes running through the different rooms and then there is cold, damp air coming through the cracks in the windows. Not so terrible when one is perfectly healthy. Throw a fever in the mix and you've got more temperatures in one room than emotions in six months worth of PMS.

Not only do I believe that having the window open at night is what caused a phlegm colony in my lungs in the first place, but it is impossible to keep them closed and stay at a reasonable level of hydration. I try desperately to drink enough water to combat the dehydration process but short of becoming a camel, I see no end. Heaven forbid it ever warms up outside because Lord help us if the outside temp is forty-five and they don't turn the heat off until it reaches fifty!

-=-

No word on the job front. I got the one little part-time job and it is stellar!! The people are so nice and it is good honest work. I don't mind it in the least. But I need more than twelve hours per week. I am going to a temp agency tomorrow just to see. Even if it is temp, it is better than nothing.

Thanks, y'all, for reading and I made some adjustments to the comments section so it should be easier. Let me know what you think!!