The Countess Bedelia was such a dear in a tender email she sent about KiKi's health. She's been through this before and knows what I'm going through now. Fortunately, although he had lost control of his hind legs some days back, the effects apparently reversed themselves as he was running in the park yesterday and, when I stopped by today, he ran to me and actually tried to jump up on my legs. He just keeps chugging along.

What is it about the power a pet dog has over us, the power of making us their pets. They have powers of hypnosis: the power to make you feel guilty when you leave them, the power to convince you to feed the something really special, or the ability to make you believe that no human can give you the unconditional love they can--on the condition that you feed and walk them. It's all there in those eyes. I've been hypnotized for many years.

I met up with Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish for a glass or two of medicinal sherry yesterday; I was particularly moved that she had declined to go out on Friday since we were under the weather and she felt that there was no sense of appearing at Ye Old Gin Hall without the Astors to spar with. Actually, she spars with me and paws at Mr. Astor. We sat with the with the great financial minds of Baron Irwin and Sir Pimpernel; their gloom and doom scenario of our future was enough to make anyone drink and jump off a cliff (if there were one in Miami).
Fortunately, we were surprised by the visit to the gin hall by Alan and Darren who have taken up residence at their condo in The Tides for a week of escape from the cold winds of Newport. I could detect a distinct mischievous nature brewing in Darren; yes, he was back in the tropical candy store.