There comes a time in everybody’s life where you just have to break down and admit you’re a little bit weird.

My dog Belle is now 13.

I admit it’s been several years since she actually enjoyed going for a walk. And even when she was walking, she was never exactly an enthusiastic dog-thlete.

The last time we went for my usual one hour walk together we ended up with an actual police escort going home.

Belle kept lying down on the side of the road looking up at me, as if to say, “Woe is me! Why did I end up with a mommy who’s a health nut? Why can’t I have a mommy who likes to sit on the couch and eat cookies like other dog mommies?”

As I was wearing myself out picking her up and carrying Belle, I flagged down a policewoman patrolling the neighborhood.

The policewoman agreed to give us a ride home and then opened the door to the criminal area.

Belle and I sat on the plastic seat in the back.

I had never been in the criminal area of a police car before, much less inside a police car.

When we got home, I reached for the door handle to step out only to realize that there is no door handle in the criminal area of a police car.

The policewoman had to come around and let us out.

Belle hopped out of the car, as if to say, “Thank God that walk is over.”

So I got the message.

For the last several years I have been leaving her at home when I go for my one-hour walks, but the only thing is that she often cries when I go away and I sometimes find her crying when I come back.

My mother, ever the practical one, said to me recently, “I think you need to get a baby carriage for Belle.”

After all, things have progressed to the point where I carry Belle down the stairs in the morning.

I also keep two park leashes tethered together beside the front door in case she has to go out to do her business in the middle of the night.

She has been rescued out of the middle of the road so many times I know for a fact she can’t see very well.

So by keeping her tied to two very long leashes I know she can make it back to the front door.

When my mother suggested I buy a baby carriage for Belle, my first response was, “People will think that I’m weird.”

Then recently my friend Ramajon Cogan came to visit.

Ramajon puts together my books for me and is an integral part of my publishing team.

He saw first hand how much Belle suffers when she gets separated from her mommy.

“I think you should get a baby carriage for her,” Rama told me.

“People will think I’m weird,” I replied.

“So?” Rama challenged me.

Yes, it’s true. What else is new?

The next day Rama and I drove over to Walmart where for $49.99 we found the perfect baby carriage for Belle.


"Belle Enjoying Her Baby Carriage Ride"

Belle Enjoying Her Baby Carriage Ride

Rama and I had to entice Belle into the baby carriage with a few cookies at first, but after that she was along for the view.

I brought dog cookies, her water bowl and a bottle of water.

This afternoon when I was working with a client, I saw Belle dart out the door to my studio.

“She’s doing her business,” my client observed.

But no.

I watched and instead she was walking over to admire her brand new baby stroller!

Since then we have gone for several more rides to get the hang of it.

When she’s not begging for cookies or smiling up at me Belle rests her head on the baby tray and simply relaxes in the sunshine.

Yes, it’s true.

I’m a little weird.

But my dog Belle and I have figured out what makes us happy and I guess that’s all that matters!

"Belle and Catherine Carrigan"

Belle and Catherine Carrigan