Oh sure we've got our 'melancholia', our issues with the drink and that damned penchant for potatoes, and are notoriously bad cooks, but we've also got a great way with the gab, the words, ahhh the words, the darkest of dark senses of humor on the planet and not a small amount of stubbornness (which can be a good thing... sometimes).
But on St. Patrick's Day, they say, EVERYONE is Irish. Even my friend Sandy - who is in fact NOT Irish, but did marry a lovely Irish lass, so I guess that's alright. Here he is in his vintage car in a St. Paddy's parade yesterday.
I dunno 'bout everyone being Irish today, but I do know that my dog is Irish to the bone. And many years ago when he was a wee wisp of a pup, I used to take him to the St. Patrick's Day Parade up Fifth Avenue. Something about the bagpipes really appeals to him. It's odd, but that's ma boy! And it's pretty amusing. Since he no longer enjoys leaving the block, we haven't gone to the parade in many, many years.
But I do have some charmingly embarrassing photos of him from the years when I would deck him out.
Please rest assured the shamrocks were merely green food coloring - it washed right out. He's like Teflon this dog, dirt don't stick. Which is realllllly convenient in a white dog living in NYC. Trust me.
The shirt is an old thermal of mine and that was his coat for some time while I searched for something I could afford that would fit his very large rib cage. (I ended up making him a leopard coat out of fleece - adorable and very warm.) This is just the scarf. He enjoys dressing up. Again... that's my boy.