8/27/02 This one goes out


This one goes out to our dog Chopin Blake, who chowed down an entire bottle of prescription Rimadyl in biscuit form, and now spends the night at the animal hospital under the long shadows of the Queensboro Bridge. We were getting sushi on Houston St., and the Little Lord Poopypants was in the car, apparently agonizing over the state of the world (or a guy wearing a hat on a bike). Just like him to be broody, Romantic and suicidal, just like Tchaikovsky or something but like all artists with wide swaths of mood, we expect him to be back in fighting form by tomorrow or so. After spending the night barfing and then ingesting activated charcoal, he’ll probably need a nice long rest on a hill up in the Berkshires.

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