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Gowanus Dogs— Heel!

woof is a four letter wordRed Hook dog about to jump off. It’s been a few years now since the canines of Gowanus roamed free but some days we miss them still. See mama bear and her three cubs lope down 3rd Avenue on a cold Autumn night; see those dark eyes watching you from the quiet of an empty lot on Bond Street; see Terrier/X sashay up Nevins Street past the factory workers, the loops of cars cruising for cheap blow jobs or crack, past the playground, past the Bridgerunners Motorcycle Club in search of last night’s chicken bones— that ain’t no paltry amount of pollo. These animals had no pedigree save what they earned on the streets: pugs look out!   Or, safer yet,  plop down on the sidewalk for yummy brunch in Cobble Hill,  Boerum Hill or Carroll Gardens, where hybrid vigor is an increasingly rare virtue. Yummy! In the Red Hook district of South Brooklyn, whose legends once contained such enfeebled realjump, don’t jump estate tropes, things were much the same, if somewhat lonelier, especially at night and on the weekends. “It’s a long long way to Smith and 9th Street, it’s a long long way to my heart,” as the old Italian folk song goes. Who knows what thoughts of cupidity, the old Todd Shipyard or the NYPD impound yard the Red Hook dog of today recalls as he stands on the ledge, waiting to jump, or waiting to write a poem, or waiting for the blood to leave his vessels because if he advances another foot the pain of his love will kill him. — Mrs. Manicotti

A native of Mill Street and former President of the South Brooklyn Camera Club, Mrs. Manicotti sees it through. 

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