New York City is in the midst of an Australian winter. Not that it would describe the unseasonable warmth that way, but for us Antipodeans that’s what it feels like. I’ve come with a suitcase of down and haven’t used it. Yet!
The city is wearing its Christmas dress. Christmas fairy lights, wreaths, pine branch runners, and rows of Christmas trees for sale along the streets so it smells like a pine forest. But it’s still so warm the leaves in Greenwich village don’t know it’s time to leave! Sorry, bad joke.
And dogs. Everywhere. The dogs have taken over since we were here last.
A white fluffy ball of a canine sat next to us last night at dinner in the local grill. It came in its own aqua Birken handbag.
Tonight in the hotel lounge I shared an ancient chesterfield in front of the fire with a chichuaua who was propped in the corner wrapped in a rug.
When did New York overtake Paris as the dog capital of the world?