REX AND THE CITY: Part IX--How to Handle a Rescued Hunting Dog Inside Your 300 Square Foot Apartment, in Summer, in NYC.

How to Manage a Rescued Hunting Dog Inside Your 300 Square Foot Apartment, in Summer, in NYC, When it's 800 Degrees Outside.

Hello dear readers:

It feels almost inappropriate to share another post from my “REX AND THE CITY” series when so many ignorant men in this shared world of ours are starting wars, but today I am thinking of something my dear father once told me. It was way back in September of 2001, when New York City had been attacked and I was questioning whether my chosen path of writing had any real value in the midst of so much human suffering, and my father says “Your writing helps people laugh, and it’s good to laugh, even in times of sorrow.” So please do not think, by sharing this post now, I am making light of peoples’ suffering. As a Buddhist, I take the view that when one of us suffers, we all suffer. And likewise, when one of us smiles at the cute antics of a dog, all of us smile.

One of my teachers, the magnificent Ram Dass, used to remind us that, even though we acknowledge that we live in a realm that contains suffering, we should still do all we can to relieve that suffering. It sounds like a conundrum, but it’s actually not. It’s life.

Nor am I am trying to imply that this post below is some sort of antidote to world suffering. It’s just one small drop of humor, of distraction, that I offer into the great ocean of humanity. Lofty words for a humble piece of writing about my dog...

This 9th installment of the REX AND THE CITY/REX IN THE CITY series originally appeared in Bark magazine, Volume 23, Summer 2003, Copyright © Lee Harrington (writing as Lee Forgotson). It also appeared in revised form in my memoir REX AND THE CITy (Random House: 2006 and Diversion Books: 2011). Illustrations copyright Bark and the credited artists. I have no affiliation or agreement with any advertisers shown—those are old ads from the original print pages of the magazine.

illo by Susan Synarski

I even showed [the dog] pictures of Belgian cart dogs, all tethered and muzzled and forced to work in the heat. “These are your ancestors,” I told him. “See how lucky you are to be living in New York City?”

But Rex wasn’t impressed. Get me a beef consomme snow cone, his look seemed to say. And then maybe we’ll talk.