I have always preferred to fly under the radar. Before I had Ella, you would generally see me walking around the city with earphones in, sunglasses on…read: I’m not interested in communicating with strangers so, politely, please leave me alone, thank you very much.

Fast forward to roughly late March ’08 when one such complete stranger stopped me on 79th and Park and said, “Oh my God I’ve heard about you!” I looked around, puzzled, sure she just forgot to take her meds that morning (something about these Upper Eastside women…so rich, so often drugged to dull the pain of being so rich). Anyway, she quickly clarified by saying, “I heard there was a new golden retriever puppy in the neighborhood!!” Whoa, seriously? Not a day later, a woman stopped me in the park and asked if I felt like a celebrity as often as I was being stopped while out and about. I promise you, if Ella knew how to write, she’d surely be signing autographs. Already, several people have stopped us to have their picture taken with her…

Anyway, here’s a perfect example of what others see when I’m out walking Ella, and why we never make it very far without people cooing and stopping us and telling me how beautiful and sweet she is. Of course it’s all very nice and I appreciate the complements. But in an answer to the woman’s question about whether I feel like a celebrity? No, I don’t feel like a celebrity…I feel like a celebrity’s handler! (Shouldn’t I get paid for this? Don’t most celeb assistants at least get some nice hand-me-down clothes/handbags or the stuff in the gift bags left over from industry events? I mean, throw a furmomma a bone!)

Now, go ahead…coo away…

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