ON A PRIVATE TOUR of NEW YORK CITY
On a private tour of New York City I share with my guests what I do for my own enjoyment and delight. What could be better than that?
Private Tours of New York City are a way of experiencing the city in a unique way. They give us time to absorb, to soak in the energy and spirit of NYC, perhaps sit in a sidewalk cafe and watch the world go by. On one of our late afternoon private tours, we visited the Metropolitan Museum to see some of the astounding pieces in the collection of Egyptology.
After our visit we decided to have coffee to rest our weary legs. We were sitting outside on Madison Avenue sipping delicious cappuccinos. It was an unseasonably warm day in October and we sat chatting about the wonders we had just seen. We couldn’t help but notice that there seemed to be a large number of small dogs being portaged around in expensive Gucci and Coach bags draped casually over some very fashionable ladies shoulders. It’s seems to be a trend worth watching, because a bond forged over millennia is slowly eroding. The dog, man’s best friend, a superbly adapted quadruped with the ability to walk or run for miles is having its physiognomy subtlety subverted.
The hounds that lunch are being carried about town like little potentates, feet nary touching the ground, paw pads pink as the day they were born. Sadly, this trend of portaging pets is spreading. By our very rough unscientific analysis, two of every five dogs living near Madison do little or no walking.
How far will this go; is there an upper theoretical limit to the size that a porta-pet may attain? Will men who normally favor the more robust breeds, challenge each other for sidewalk supremacy by slinging Rottweiler’s and Sheep Dogs over their shoulders echoing the days of the huge boom box? No doubt laws will soon be needed. Surely, with the advent of genetic engineering can a breed of dog bred purely for the Prada bag be far behind? This movement must be stopped in its tracks, or we will we soon see hounds whose legs have become vestigial, resembling snakes, rather than the canids we adore. Will we live to see the cocka-boa? Dogs belong down on the end of a on leash, strutting beside their masters. The beasts needs to stand on their own four feet the way God intended. On our NYC tours we’ll keep our eyes sharply peeled for any animal being sported around in a Gucci bag. Perhaps we can issue a citizen’s summons? But, first, quick, how many hounds in the pack above?