"A NEW (YORK) LEASH ON LIFE"

I flew into the Big Apple from the Big Easy on Halloween night 1990 arriving via 747-not broomstick! The move to New York City, while grounded in hope, was not without some sacrifice. I terminated a ten-year relationship and liquidated a life-time of assets for a mere trifle of cash. I left the haunting, yet familiar bogeymen of New Orleans for the yet unknown in Manhattan. Why? I was in love!

The new faces, smells, noises, and bustle of city traffic spurred my adrenaline yet the surroundings also catapulted me into sensory overload. I thought I could handle change; after all, I had over ten years sobriety from drugs and alcohol under my belt plus double that time in therapy.

I was wrong. I began to suffer severe panic attacks, debilitating bouts of depression, and a recurrence of an old nemesis-agoraphobia. I could barely get out of bed during the day and was terrified to venture from my apartment with my new lover on the Upper West Side.

After months of increasing fear and hopelessness, as well as a relationship that was now failing, I contacted the New York Psychiatric Institute's Depression Evaluation Service from an ad I had seen in a local paper. Reluctantly, yet desperately, I volunteered for an anti-depressant study they were offering. This was quite a step for me. Given my past, I feared drugs of any kind and held the belief that more therapy would cure me of my maladies.

As my depression and anxiety syndrome was so critical, they decided to treat me directly rather than risk my receiving a placebo in the study. Hence I began a regimen with my new life's companion-Prozac! Before things got better, however, they seemed to get worse. I was plagued by sleeplessness and nightmares which my optimistic doctors assured me were temporary.

I was barely able to take care of myself at this point yet my ailing psyche longed for normality so I reached out again. This time I phoned the Northshore Animal League and soon became the proud Mama of the most beautiful and energetic shepard-wolfhound pup you ever did see. Gumbo Ya Ya had come into my life.

Gradually the medication began to kick in and the side-effects ceased. I forced myself out of the apartment since I had a pup to walk and train. My fears of new people and places started to subside and I began building friendships with other dog owners in the neighborhood. One new friend was a dog-walker I met in Riverside Park. He said he had a new client in my building but was already over-booked. "Would you be interested in walking a small Jack Russell terrier along with Gumbo?" he asked. Even with all my problems I knew I could walk a little pooch around the block. Hell, Gumbo was proof of that!

So Gumbo and Miss Zoe led the pack, soon followed by Patchouli, Cousin Ginger Ann, and Bonanza Jellybean. My doctor said she didn't really know which came first-the Prozac or the puppies, but the rainy days became sunnier and slowly but surely my footing became more secure. Whatever energy I could muster, I threw into caring for neighborhood dogs and, inadvertently, myself. I was available seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day for pet care and business began to boom!

Throughout my months of depression and anxiety, I had been receiving Social Security disability payments. As I began earning money I knew my regular government check was in jeopardy. Could I risk giving it up? Could I risk depending on myself right now? I so feared relapse and found myself in a scary conundrum. But I knew I had survived far worse, so I decided to gamble on me! "Goin' To The Dogs Of New York," my pet care and boarding business, became a reality that day.

Years have passed and I've scooped more than my share of doggie droppings but I've also made the acquaintance of hundreds of dogs, cats, birds and even an occasional iguana and snake. My favorite perk though is the wonderful "two-legged" creatures I meet while strolling with my "four-legged" ones! It is with rare exception that I encounter a human who doesn't smile or chuckle when they see me and my motley crew of canines stumbling down the street. Sometimes my arm just aches from waving to all the people who tell us hello on our daily rounds.

Early morning walks often reveal their own surprises. While pawing and scratching the turf, certain "clients" have dug up such items as a Santeria altar and a discarded box of old sex toys mistaken for bones! By afternoon, however, we are more likely to enjoy the sounds of a piano concerto emanating from one window followed by a diva practicing an aria at the next.

New York City has proven to be a fantastic town! I have met so many extraordinary people and pets and am no longer afraid! I'm "that lady with the dogs" and I couldn't be happier or more satisfied with my life. If I had a tail it would certainly be wagging! "Goin' To The Dogs Of New York" has been my salvation and I am ever mindful of my success. Recently, while sitting Shiva for a hound of the Hebrew persuasion, I couldn't help but be grateful for my many blessings. I am a thriving entrepreneur with an apartment "dog-house" in the City and a home in the country which also serves as a "beasty bed and biscuit." I have a new relationship but that old love interest that I came here for in the first place is now a dear and supportive friend who even walks a dog or two for me on weekends. Gumbo has a brother named Gaytor and depression?-well that's a thing of the past. What do I have to be sad about? Everday I get an abundance of unconditional love and the only crap in the world I have to put up with...I get to throw away!