A peek inside the lives of some fabulous people and their furry best friends.
Carole Radziwill, the Emmy-award winning journalist, best-selling author, and star of The Real Housewives of New York, and her Boxer Margaret.
A little background:
It was 2007 and I had just returned from an extended stay in Oregon to visit my sister-in-law, Teresa, and her kids. After the bustle of that trip, my apartment felt unusually quiet. One of my oldest girlfriends Christiane mentioned that her husband had promised her a dog for Christmas. She had grown up with Boxers and had wonderful memories of them. I, on the other hand, grew up with strays and mutts and mangy cats and birds—no nostalgia. And I enjoyed my carefree single city life. Still, I was feeling a little homesick for family and mentioned it to Christiane. She thought it would be great if we both got dogs. Sibling dogs! Sibling Boxers! Hers is a boy, Mindu, and mine, his sister, is Margaret.
Well, like me she loves to take long afternoon naps. Unlike me, the quintessential New Yorker, Margaret is definitely a Los Angeles kind of girl. She loves the outdoors, chasing balls, burying bones, and scouting out nearby neighborhoods. Luckily I rent a house in Los Angeles which I now refer to as Margaret’s house. She refuses to come to New York so while I am away she stays with her pack leader Peter, the Cesar Millan of Laurel Canyon Dog Park.
She’s the Kate Moss of Boxers. But she is also a tomboy. She hangs with the boys, plays catch with the boys, she even pees like the boys now. She hates adornment of any kind. I tried a pink bandana around her neck for a while and she refused to leave the house.
She has never refused a treat of any kind. She is lucky to have a very good metabolism because as it turns out I’m the kind of mom who gives treats freely as a way to ease the guilt of my work schedule, and trips to New York. If I were a real mom all my kids would be fat.
When Margaret was four months old I sent her to sleep-away training camp. She returned three weeks later so well trained that she could practically read. Honestly, she has no bad habits. She is a brilliant dog, too smart. She rolls her eyes at me when I sing in the car, or when I smother her with kisses. I embarrass her a lot.
I indulge her only when it comes to schooling. Her best friend, Grayson (Peter’s dog) attends Laurel Canyon Dog Park so I spend a small fortune in “tuition” and room and board. But she is worth it. She’s the best dog in the world.
Photos: Nick Walker