CoupleCation Becomes Threesome With Mastiff

My boyfriend and I are parents, minus the human kid part. Our love child, Cosimo, was born furry and yelping more than two and a half years ago. We take him with us wherever we go (though Manhattan is challenging), and are always wondering if he’s bored when we’re not home.  At approx. 115 lbs. and over 5 ft. standing, our Cane Corso unfortunately can’t be toted around town in a shoulder bag.

Our romantic getaways have become DogCations. It just feels wrong to leave him behind. So far, this traveling pooch has been to Hilton Head (at 8 weeks old), the Catskills (née Dogskills), the Poconos and most recently, Montauk. The only trip he missed was Hawaii, and that’s because it’s impossible to bring a dog there — unless you’re moving!

Cosimo has even begun helping me chronicle his dog tales on Dogspin.com.

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I’ve noticed recently though that he’s become especially attached to J. and steals my spot in bed when I get up,  spooning him while I’m gone. In the beginning I thought it was cute…but now I’m worried. Is it possible he’s TOO ATTACHED? Will it soon become a CoupleCation again, except only with J. and Cosi?

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Am I losing my boyfriend to an Italian Mastiff? Fellow pup parents, what should I do??

Rainbow

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City Suckers

I used to ramble on nonstop about the energy of city life, of being surrounded by endless opportunities….never knowing who I was about to meet or run into. So many things to do, the city that never sleeps, an adventure around every corner, blah, blah, blah. But my friends, “Always having something to do” is exhausting.

Sensing my mounting anxiety and stress the past month, J. booked a weekend getaway. Not to the beaches of Cabo San Lucas, but to the mountains of Pennsylvania, the Poconos. We’ve settled into a three bedroom cozy cabin on 80 acres of farmland where my newest acquaintances have been two donkeys covered in hay, a bunch of goats (a few of whom I’ve witnessed doing the dirty), and about thirteen deer that look like they’re in training for Santa.

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An earlier drive wound us down the road to Beautiful Mount Airy Lodge which is no longer airy nor beautiful, but demolished and rebuilt into a smoky, senior-citizen filled casino stock full of 9,000 slot machines. Gone are the champagne glass filled tubs and in-room swimming pools. It now features a buffet, fake rock waterfall and wannabee call girls delivering alcoholic beverages to the wheelchair-bound.  The Walking Dead should drop by and grab some extras, no makeup required.

Back at the ranch, we’ve been playing in the snow, especially J. and Cosimo.  I’ve been doing more of a plodding about in my UGGs,  taking in the horizon and gunshots in the distance (must be hunting season) and wondering how I can talk J. into cooking dinner again.

Today, with the mountain sun on my face, I felt peaceful, and I would like to take this moment to apologize to anyone I ever made fun of for living in the “sticks.” Sorry cousins, aunt Jo, friends who married, procreated and moved out of town…all of you. I think you were on to something. But I have a confession: I still need my Starbucks!

After polishing off a bottle of wine, J. has gone to mingle with the goats, he’s trying to get them to reenact the Doritos SuperBowl commercial. Hope they don’t bite…

Love, Rainbow

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Back to Us

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After a day spent wandering the woods, creek and little country town (one pizza place, one gas station and one video rental store), J. is setting up Battleship. Board games = Adult entertainment in the mountains. I would personally love some Hungry, Hungry Hippos action right about now, but my choices are limited. We got Scrabble (maybe after another glass of wine), Monopoly (nah, that will lead to real estate talk)…and Battleship, (looks like a ghetto laptop for children).

This getaway is good for us — crickets, cicadas, spiders and all. Gone for a few days is the noise of our city life.  We’re back to basics. J. + R., R. + J. and…the pooch!  Now, if I could just get him out of our bed– that big, furry third wheel!

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Escape to the Dogskills

The water gushes past with little effort marking its territory and providing its own hypnotic soundtrack.  It’s not the sound of a busted open fire hydrant drenching the neighborhood kids on our scorching city block. This water doesn’t have a cool-down mission. It’s just riding the land, grooving down the creek, maneuvering its ways through the beaten rocks.

We left the city this morning, and I’m trying to adjust to the stillness, the quiet…the no cell phone service, no Stephen Colbert. I was fidgety for the first few hours — what do I do with these mountains, trees and dirt paths? And what’s that — sniff, sniff. Oh, fresh air.  Such a silly statement, but true, it’s like switching from rusty tap water to Evian. With a silent iPhone I’m instantly brought back to the 80s traveling with my dad and grandparents aimlessly driving around upstate NY, looking for a pay phone so we could find some distant 3rd cousin’s summer barbecue. Ah, that reminds me, we may have to go cousin-hunting tomorrow…with Facebook tagging it’s hard to take a quiet weekend away anywhere.

At this moment, it’s just me, J. and super-pooch who looked up at us with raised eyebrows and a little drool when we told him we were now in the Catskills. Catskills?! Who’s representing the mastiffs? He asked us in his canine murmurs to call it “the Dogskills” for the weekend. You got it Cozi.

Here we have no distractions…except for maybe a bear? I suddenly wish I had read those warning signs back on the winding roads. And J. is of course grilling on the back porch, inviting any beasts lurking in the woods to come on down and take a bite — of the bratwurst, not us!  If I don’t post again, you know the bears got us….