Sad tales (tails)

I live about a block away from the ASPCA headquarters in Manhattan and I always see volunteers or staffers walking dogs, giving them some exercise.

It’s invariably always older dogs, who - and it breaks your heart - you know are probably not going to be adopted and will likely be put to sleep...a nice euphemism for being killed.

The walkers have different methods. Some yap on their cell phones the whole way and just walk the dogs to the end of the block and turn back. Others talk to the pooches the whole time and pet them and pay attention to them.

On my way to dinner tonight, I saw one walker who had brought a little rubber toy thing and tried throwing it down in front of the dog she was walking, an adorable mutt, to give it some play time. The dog skittered away from it, though, scared. God only knows what had happened to it in its life. I wanted to adopt it on the spot.

And, by the way, if one of my so-called friends, who was looking at dogs in a pet store recently - and who I thought knew better - is reading this, it’s yet another reason why she better not dare patronize a pet store instead of her local pound.

Meanwhile, in other sad news, my amazing and top-secret health regimen has led to the point that when I went to Key Food today, and forgot to put a belt on my shorts, I had to walk with my hand in my pocket (no, no, no, not for that...I only do that at home heh) to hold them up! If I had let go, the damn things would have fallen - no doubt much to the delight of the gals on the Upper East Side, natch.

I digress. On my way home from a fantastic dinner (I started with gazpacho with a grilled South African shrimp in it, followed by veal scallopine stuffed with spinach and gruyere cheese, accompanied by garlic mashed potatoes and asparagus) I stopped in at the Duane Reade and bought a pound of gummy worms on sale for $2.00.


So much for my regimen.

Sad.

Sugarly delicious but sad.