Today on Alphabet City: Jon Paul deals with the aftermath of a dog fight that leaves little Frida wounded. New excerpt available from Episode 14: And Baby Makes Three.
Last week, my foofy six year-old Bichon Frise dog-daughter Frida was roughed up and bitten by a bully named Flavia. Since I wasn’t present at the incident which happened in the courtyard of my house, details are sketchy. But from what I gather from our dog walker Andrea, in the blink of an eye, Flavia turned aggressive and sunk her teeth into Frida’s chest.
Angela, who was working from home, heard Frida’s dramatic screams and rushed outside to assist. Here’s what she told me later, “The entire neighborhood took notice. Frida’s wailing was like nothing I’ve heard from a dog before. It was as if someone was being murdered!”
That’s my girl. A complete Drama Queen. I’m proud to think she learned it from the best—me. Not to be all hot pants about it—Frida will be fine. There was bleeding, a pretty big puncture wound, and late night panic that an infectious fever had set in—I taught myself to take her temperature rectally following Googled instructions. The next day during a trip to East Village vet Doc Moscovich, Frida re-enacted the crime with her dramatic wailing before he even touched the gash.
As if auditioning for a role on Law&Order: CVU (Canine Victim’s Unit), Frida trembles in panic every morning as we walk the streets near Flavia’s apartment. Yesterday, we spotted the accused and her owner who quickly looked away and shuffled on. I was astonished—if I had found out Frida had caused such an injury, I would be in touch with the parents immediately offering help for the vet bills, therapy, etc. I thought about going over to him and inviting him and his co-dog parent over to our house to talk it out. Suddenly, I realized I was recreating the plot of Broadway’s God of Carnage and casting myself in the role that won Marcia Gay Harden a Tony. On second thought, I decided to leave it alone—I’d rather my house not end up in ruins like the set of that play.
Twice a day I force feed Frida a horse pill of an antibiotic and insist she wear an Elizabethan collar. But it’s the prescribed hot towel warm compresses that get me—she won’t sit still for me to administer that old school remedy. No, that’s a special bonding treat she saves for her Papa Chef.
Just like any child, Frida has her own special relationship with her parents. In addition to my dramatic flare, Frida has learned the value of a rigorous schedule, and appreciates my love of travel—her first out-of-town trip was to the luxurious L’Ermitage Beverly Hills, of course. From her Papa Chef, she’s inherited the world’s largest bladder and a sleep gene that’s earned her the title of “Laziest Dog in the World.”
From the very beginning, those two have always had a special bond. Which is funny, really, because pre-Frida, Chef wasn’t really a dog person. In fact, I basically hoodwinked him into adopting the little goose. Here’s another excerpt from Alphabet City’s Episode 14: And Baby Makes Three—about how a puppy transformed two career-oriented NYC gay guys into doting parents.
CLICK HERE for the second excerpt from Episode 14: And Baby Makes Three.