You know, darlings, that by now, our walk to the subway each morning involves going up 77th Street in Bay Ridge, to the subway stop there. We pass, en route, a terraced house, atop which often resides our friend, a lovable boxer, whom Monsieur affectionately dubbed "Cujo," and to which Cujo, now with equal affection, responds to us, whenever we call him. Last week, one day, he was indoors, and, when I called him, I heard a bark from within!
Well, this morning, I was worried. Cujo was not out on his terrace; no surprise, there, as it was cold. We called, but no avail,. But then, when we stood outside the gated driveway, where there was only one car, Cujo came up to the gate, and greeted us, but he looked so sad, so forlorn. We told him we love him, and he looked at me, pleading, like he was trying to tell me something, and expecting me to understand.
I certainly hope Cujo is not ill, or that he is not being mistreated. He has never seemed so, prior to this morning. If something is wrong with Cujo, and nothing is being done about it, I am telling you, I am thinking of either dognapping or adoption. I would love to have big, lovable Cujo sleep at the foot of our bed. I know he would be an expensive pet, but we love him!!!!!!!!!!!!
So, I hope those owners on 77th Street continue to take good care of Cujo!
Or, one day, Cujo may just up and fly the coop!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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