HAPPY FATHER'S DAY 2020 FROM THE POODLES OF PARK AVENUE BY KAREN-CHERIE COGANE!

“It’s Simone, the Park Avenue poodle, wishing all dads of humans and pets the best Father’s Day yet!

I’m writing a poodle ode, since my inspiration flowed:

‘There are endless ways to thank my pet daddy who works at a Manhattan bank.

To mon pere: I hope you know how much I care.

I celebrate this date since you are amazingly great!

Here’s to my pop. You’re the tops!

Handsome and fine, Raymond, you are simply divine.

How can I say merci for being so good to me? Neckties? Watches? Slippers? Pocket squares? How about something else to wear?

But material things aren’t enough for my dad who’s got the right stuff.

Last year we took you out to Father’s Day brunch and told you we appreciate you a bunch. This year we are celebrating at home.

You’ve got my endless love. So, what about writing it in the sky above? Then everyone will see how much I adore thee.

I’ll shower you with poodle kisses, prance, and do a joyful dance.

When I was a puppy, you brought me home, and it was a win-win; I cherish you through thick and thin.

Yes, I’m your poodle kid, who’s full of glee that you’re the daddy of me.

I’ve got great food to eat and bacon treats. You give me sirloin steak or rib eye. My, oh my!

You’ve got beaucoup charm. You protect me from harm and keep me warm.

Dad, you work hard and rarely complain. You’ve got that ‘I just can’t explain.’

Mother’s face glows cause’ you give her love that she undeniably knows.

I have my own lovely space in our beautiful place. There’s so much to enjoy . . . A room full of comfort and toys . . . A striking Park Avenue view, but the best part is YOU!

What means the most are the things that are free: pets, soapy scrubs in the tub, and rubs.

When you come home from work, I’ve missed you all day. I hear your footsteps and just want you to stay.

I know you’re often busy, but when I see you, I’m in a tizzy.

I love when you spend time with me, even if we watch TV, or I sit on your knees.

And everything will be alright, when you tuck me in at night.

So, dad, to me you are dear, and Father’s Day is every day of the year!

Happy Father’s Day 2020!'

By the way, I wished Frank, my dog walker, a Happy Father’s Day, since he’s the dad of two little girls. Mojito, my Chihuahua walking partner, heard me, and of course, put his two cents in.

Me: “Happy Father’s Day, Frank! How will you celebrate?”

Frank: “My wife is making a big dinner for me and the kids, and we’re spending the holiday at home this year.”

“I hope you have a wonderful time. You deserve it. You’re a great father!” I said.

“Why, thank you, Simone. What will Raymond and Grace do?” Frank asked.

“Mom and Jorge are making dinner for us. We’ll have filet mignon, pommes frites, asparagus, and quiche. For dessert there will be chocolate mousse and other sweet delights. Jorge is making some doggie dishes for me, and I hope I have the filet mignon. I can't wait! Mom and me bought dad some special gifts, even though he’s the man who has everything,” I told him.

“He has everything since he has you and Grace,” Frank added.

“Merci. Did you know it's Fete des Peres today, too?” I questioned Frank.

“Yes, I know, and it’s great,” my dog walker mentioned.

Mojito: “There’s a holiday for pears?”

Moi: “Of course, peres deserve to be celebrated.”

“Well, they are okay, but I never thought they were THAT special,” Mojito commented.

“That’s not a nice thing to say, Mojito. You have a pere, so don’t you think there should be a holiday honoring them?” I asked.

“I have just one in the apartment, so I don’t really think it’s a big deal. It’s not a large thing,” the Chihuahua stated.

My response: “Of course you have one. And peres come in all sizes, but that’s not the important thing. It’s their quality that counts.”

Mojito: “Well, mine is on the small side, and I guess it’s good.”

“I think you should appreciate peres more, Mojito. Don’t take them for granted,” I said to him.

“I never knew you were such a fan of pears, that you liked them so much,” Mojito told me.

I answered: “Certainly, I do. Peres are sweet and brighten a table, especially when they’re at the head.”

“But mine is not really around much, only for a little while each day, from what I can see,” Mojito replied.

Frank: “Oh, Simone, one of my dog walker pals has a client who is getting an au pair.”

“Oh, really?” I asked.

“Yes, since their baby is young, and they’re very busy, they need the help. An au pair will come in handy. Hopefully, the baby will be happy, and the au pair will be nice,” Frank said.

Mojito: “Couldn’t they have strawberries? Or apples? Or bananas? They’re very good, too.”

Our dog walker: “Yes, the baby would probably like that, if they’re mashed up.”

Me: “Getting back to the celebration, Jorge is making a fancy pear dish, ‘Pears Helene.’ I hope I can taste it, since it’s supposed to be so good with a sweet sauce.”

Mojito: “I’d like to taste it, too. It sounds better since it has a sauce. Can I? Can I come over for the dinner?”

“Well, no, unfortunately (I clear my throat), you’re not invited, Mojito, since it’s just a family dinner. But maybe your pere is there today for you at home,” I said.

The Chihuahua: “I don’t really care if the pear is there or not. Doesn’t really appeal to me. Kind of plain and bland.”

“You know, I get that you have issues regarding your pere, but you could be more understanding. You do have a beautiful apartment, and that’s because of your pere and your mere,” I emphasized.

“Yeah, so? Big deal. A pear’s a pear. A mare’s a mare. In the dining room or kitchen, it’s all the same,” Mojito responded.

Frank asked: “When did you get so jaded, Mojito? You must be very bitter.”

Mojito: “No, I’m not, and I guess, a pear could be sweet, but I’d rather have other things.”

“Like what?” I questioned.

His retort: “Like French fries or cold pizza, or over-ripe bananas, so I can chew on the peels.”

“You crack me up, Mojito! For a Chihuahua who lives on Park Avenue, you have no taste. And you don’t make any sense, even Chihuahua sense,” I scoffed.

“Why, just because I don’t like pears?” he asked. “Not everybody likes the same things.”

I exclaimed: “But it is FETE DES PERES, so you could show a little respect, Mojito!”

Mojito: “I just don’t understand why there’s a holiday for PEARS, that’s all!”

“It’s a French thing, and that’s what they celebrate, and call it,” I retorted.

The Chihuahua: “I think the French are funny and only they will salute pears.”

Me: “They do it in Belgium, too.”

Mojito: “In Belgium? I don’t get these Europeans. Couldn’t they celebrate something else? Like people?”

Frank: “It’s one holiday they celebrate, Mojito, and it’s very important. Anyway, for Fete des Peres, Simone, I thought I’d stop by today and say hi to Raymond, after your walk. I’d like to toast him with a glass of wine if that’s okay.”

Moi: “Of course, and dad will love that. You know how much he likes and admires you. He’ll be touched.”

“Huh? Your daddy celebrates pears, too?” Mojito asked.

“Of course, he is a pere, so he salutes all peres,” I explained.

Mojito: “He likes pears that much?”

Me: “Yes! I just said that! He loves them and enjoys them often.”

“Can’t he have something else?” Mojito asked.

“I guess so, but why not? What’s wrong with peres?” I asked.

“I don’t like them. I just don’t!” Mojito snapped.

I snapped back: “You really need to adjust your attitude! You’re getting nowhere being so negative and obstinate!”

The Chihuahua: “Okay, maybe Frank can take us to the market one day, and I can look for some pears. I think my mom buys bartlett and bosc pears, but they have a funny shape.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

Frank: “And look, Mojito, you’re not going to win an argument. Stop bickering. Just acknowledge that today is Father’s Day!”

“I know that, and I guess I’ll see my dad for an extra nano-minute that day,” he remarked.

I told him: “It’s also Fete des Peres, and you have to accept that, like it or not!”

Mojito turned in circles and yelled: “Well, I don’t like it, and you can’t make me!”

“Just grow up, you stupid Chihuahua! Grow up!” I yelled.

Frank: “Stop it! What is the big fuss over a holiday for French fathers, Fete des Peres, Mojito? You have to learn to respect fathers from all countries. And you must respect your father and wish him a Happy Father’s Day!”

Mojito: “Come again? You’re talking about a French holiday for dads?”

Me: “Duh! FETE DES PERES is a ‘Festival of Fathers’ in France!

“I thought you were talking about the pears that you eat, and that it is going to be ‘FETE DAY PEARS!” Mojito revealed.

I said: “No! No! No! Like Frank and me told you, ‘Fete des Peres’ celebrates fathers in France. P-E-R-E-S! And the holiday is on our Father's Day, June 21.”

Mojito: “Oh . . . I get it now. At least I think I do. What’s next? A holiday for apples or oranges? Fete Day Apples or Fete Day Oranges?”

Frank: “Ha! Ha! But you’ll be nice to your daddy today, and be affectionate, since it’s Father’s Day?”

“I guess so,” Mojito said.

Frank: “I guess so? That’s it?”

“Okay, yes, I will, if I see him. He is my human dad,” Mojito said.

“That’s my boy. You must learn to appreciate your parents. They put a beautiful roof over your head,” Frank said.

“They’re putting a roof on my head? Like a hard hat?” Mojito asked.

“No, it’s just an expression. I mean, they give you a wonderful home,” Frank explained.

“Too bad, they’re never there -- never there,” Mojito looked sad and lamented.

Frank picked him up: “Well, they are doctors, and they’re on call a lot to help save their patients, especially during the corona virus.”

Mojito: “Si, I know they do good things, but they do have a pet son, me, so they should give me more attention.”

Frank: “Well, I’m here, and when we finish our walk, I'll give you a lot of pets, okay?”

The Chihuahua: “Did you bring extra bacon treats? Did you? Bacon! Bacon! I love bacon!”

“Yes, I know you love bacon, and I did,” Frank assured Mojito, as he popped bacon treats in his little mouth.

Mojito: “Will the mares be at the dinner today, too?”

Moi: “Yes, bien sur, my mere will be there to celebrate with dad.”

“You have your own mare now?” Mojito asked.

“Are you living in space, Mojito? I’ve always had a mere,” I retorted.

Mojito: “Where do you keep your mare?”

Moi: “In our apartment.”

“Does she have her own room?” Mojito wondered.

I said: “Why? My mare sleeps with my father in one big bed.”

“Really? The bed would have to be very big to fit your mare and your pere,” Mojito replied.

“It is, but they’re both slender, so there’s plenty of room,” I added.

“What does your mare eat and isn’t it hard for Jorge to find food for her?” the Chihuahua questioned.

My answer: “No, why? My mere eats what my father eats, as long as it’s gourmet food.”

Mojito asked: “What? The same food for your mare? And she eats gourmet? Never heard of that.”

“We do live on Park Avenue, and they have basically the same taste in food. That’s all. Anything else?” I responded.

Mojito asked: “Well, I live on Park Avenue, too. Isn’t it smelly with your mare in the bed with your daddy?”

“Smelly? I beg your pardon. My mere bathes or showers every day and wears the finest of French perfume,” I stated.

The Chihuahua: “Your mare can fit in the tub or shower?”

“What is this preoccupation with my mother’s size and weight? She’s very thin and toned! She used to be a dancer!” I snapped.

“Thin or not, she’s still a mare, even if she competed!” Mojito exclaimed.

Me: “Don’t you insult my mere! Don’t you dare! My mother is slender and beautiful, and I love her!”

“You’re talking about your mother?” Mojito asked.

“What else?” I said.

Mojito: “I thought you were talking about your mare, a horse.”

“A horse?” I questioned.

“Yes, I thought you have a mare and that it sleeps in a bed with your father,” Mojito explained.

“Have you been drinking Mojitos or Margaritas, you nut case? Didn’t I tell you this recently?” I asked.

Mojito repeated: “Have you been drinking Mojitos or Margaritas, you nut case?”

“Fermez la bouche!” I shouted.

“What? Don’t understand your French or gibberish talk, whatever you call it,” Mojito chided.

Me: “I said shut your mouth! Just shut up!”

Frank: “Okay, that’s enough! Let's repeat: We know that today is Father’s Day, and it’s also Fete des Peres, which means Festival of Fathers. Fete des Peres is celebrated in France, and your parents are also celebrating it. You get it now, Mojito, right?”

The Chihuahua: “I think so, but I don’t see why the French have such a confusing language. I thought you meant PEARS that you eat, and I couldn’t understand why there’s a holiday to celebrate PEARS.”

Moi: “Well, there isn’t, and now you know, correct?”

“Si,” Mojito said.

“And Mojito, could you start learning French? Maybe Frank can teach you some words,” I emphasized.

Frank: “Uh . . . Um . . . I’m very busy, Simone, but maybe when we go back to Café Beaucoup, I’ll explain to Mojito some of the dishes on the French menu. But will you listen, Mojito?”

Mojito: “I always listen. I’m very agreeable and easygoing . . . sweet and reasonable . . . And everybody loves me.”

“R-I-G-H-T,” I scoffed.

“You just don’t understand me, Simone. You don’t. That’s why I need a harem, with hundreds of girls who will adore me,” Mojito bragged.

“And you want me to be one of them, right?” I kidded.

Mojito: “Yes, I do, but only if you cooperate and agree with everything I say. You have to wait on me, bring me food, and dance for me.”

“That’s not going to happen, Mojito! Just grow up! Stop acting like a six-month-old pup!” I snapped.

Frank: “I’ve heard enough, Mojito! I’m taking you home and then Simone.”

“Thank goodness we’re on separate leashes because you’re incorrigible!” I exclaimed.

Mojito got on his hind legs and boasted: “You’d be lucky to stand next to me: Sultan Mojito, the Greatest! You should be honored, Simone.”

Frank and I burst out laughing, and Frank added: “If you don’t behave, Mojito, I won’t give you extra rubs and more treats!”

The Chihuahua put his head down and said: “Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll be a good boy, and I want the goodies."

Me: “Lucky me, I see you on my daddy’s holiday.”

Mojito: “Yeah, how lucky could a poodle be to know me!”

That’s how it went, and Mojito is constantly mixing things up. He’s so confused and conceited. Imagine thinking I was talking about pears? Come to think of it, that’s typical Mojito. It would be a nice change, to have Mojito actually understand me. But it’s never boring.

FYI, pears appeal to me, and I hope I can taste Jorge’s ‘Pears Helene’ today!

In the meantime, Happy Father’s Day to all dads and pet dads! And Happy Fete des Peres to all French fathers!”

Written by: Simone, THE Park Avenue poodle, helped by Karen-Cherie Cogane