The local pet store manager, Foni,
said: “If reincarnated, I wish to return
as an Upper West Side dog.”
My Upper West Side dog
is named Nadia. Black with
four white markings on her legs
and one on her chest, her tail looks
like a cheerleader’s pom pom.
A blue-eyed half husky half sheltie,
she’s my cheerleader, as I’m hers.
I wish I had her playful
disposition, loved meeting
new people and new dogs.
She even shared her bones
and water with a
friend’s mad beagle who
came over for a play date.
I’m able to deal with a myriad
of anxieties because of Nadia:
auditioning for a new job,
issues with my man, and
despite the risk of COVID, hosting
my first dinner party in two years.
On a nice day, walking Nadia
in the park, feeling the sun on my body,
petting her warmed fur’s lovely.
Worries about packing up my bedroom
and repainting go skittering
out of my head. Gently stroking Nadia behind her
pointed ears helps dissipate the tension
in my whirring brain.
My cousin Annie said Nadia’s
like the prima ballerina Anna Pavlova
because of how she jumps, prances and leaps,
as if she’s dancing from place to place,
dancing her way into my heart.
Kim Bendheim 