Hoboken is famous in dog circles as it perennially makes the list of top dog friendly cities
Having just come back from a recent road trip, I must echo the sentiments of Lincoln Steffens’; dog and say “I have been over to the future, and iit works.”
In this case the future is Hoboken, N.J., home of my master’s youngest daughter and the occasion was her birthday to which I was brought along to share in the festivities (frankly, I like to think I am the festivities) and I am glad I went (of course I’m always glad to go anywhere.)
But in this case, I was especially glad.
Hoboken (or as we canines like to call it, Housebroken) is famous in dog circles as it perennially makes the list of top dog friendly cities (we dogs pay attention to these things even though we are seldom asked our preferences and suspect such lists are actually put together by dog food lobbyists)
But if anyone did ask, they would find that if a city were not dog friendly it would certainly have nothing to do with the dogs. For example we seldom insist that people be leashed (although many deserve it), or that they not be allowed on the grass or kept out of fancy restaurants, yet these are common indignities dogs must endure in less evolved cities which should properly and honestly be called dog-unfriendly.
But not – I am glad to say – Hoboken, which seems to have recovered from its early association with Frank Sinatra and more recent sloshy encounter with Superstorm Sandy and is back to buzzing along with the frenetic energy that comes from being just across from the river from Manhattan and populated almost entirely by 20-somethings, babies and of course dogs.
And boy do we jazz up the place. There seems to be just about nowhere you can walk in Hoboken (everyone walks, since it is nearly impossible to find a parking place and once you do, you never move your car) without seeing a stroller or a dog, and very often both.
Now it’s an old show biz warning to never work with children or dogs, but since I am a dog I hardly mind, and I love children. There is nothing like the sheer joy a child exudes when meeting a dog (well me, anyway) for the first time and realizing that obviously the wrong folk have been placed in charge. Dogs for example would never think of telling children that play time is over, or that it is time to go to bed. Playing until you drop has always worked fine for us and I would certainly extend the same courtesy to pint-sized humans. Sure, some humans get crabby when they are overtired, but most of them aren’t children.
Anyway, Hoboken is just packed with dogs and babies, which for me makes it just about heaven on earth, and some of the gentleness seems to have worn off because the grown-ups act a little better too. My master and I walked everywhere together, me leading the way like I’m a parade marshal and he leashed along and wearing the cloak of invisibility that descends around him when we are together so that when pretty young females approach us to say “you’re beautiful” they never mean him.
Just about everyone wanted to pet me and more than one stranger offered me water when I looked tired. Restaurants for the most part treated me as if I were royalty (and good for business) and were quick to serve me first as long as I stayed outside, but since alfresco dining overlooking the Manhattan skyline is hardly a chore and humans seemed to be willing to wait in long lines for the privilege, I had plenty of company.
All in all it was just a fine road trip (aren’t they all) and I intend to place Hoboken at the top of my list of person-friendly cities.
Drop by some time, pet a dog, hug a baby and take a 20-something out to lunch.
All that potential is infectious and before you know it you’ll be on some dog’s list of friendly-people places too.
Yes, I have been over to the future, and it works.
And it goes bow-wow.
See you around the Hudson River.
Theo Chipkin doesn’t do email, but he can be reached through his agent at rchipkin@repub.com