Here's Trouble

News Item: In her will, which was recently made public,
the late Leona Helmsley leaves $12 million to her dog,
Trouble. Two of her four grandchildren were left nothing.


Like I needed this.

Like living with “the Queen of Mean” most of my life was not punishment enough. It’s not like I was a big, loping Lab or something. I’m a tiny white Maltese. There are cats in New York bigger than me. There are babies with louder voices than my bark.

(Although I am not a complete push-over: let the record show I bit a hotel housekeeper once. Hey, tiny doesn’t mean toothless, you know.)

And like children, dogs do not get to choose their owners any more than kids get to choose their parents. You think I liked being cooped up in a fancy big house all day? Does that look like a happy pooch punim in all the photos of me and Madam?
No.

Not that my doggie digs were that bad, don’t get me wrong.
After all, when your owner is ranked by Forbes as the 369th richest person in the world, you don’t expect to be slurping spaghetti out of a dirty dish in the alley like the Little Tramp. No, for a little pocket pooch, I did alright for myself, no question.

But that doesn’t mean I was happy.

Look at that picture. Look at those doleful eyes and that hangdog look.
It looks like a very put-out pooch, is what it looks like. How would you like that
face of hers pressed up against yours twenty times a day all slobbering and saying things like, “How’s my tweety, tweety Twubble today?”

Frankly, it was often enough to make me want to toss my Alpo.

Not that I actually ever ate Alpo. Good heavens. As Madam might have said, “Only the little people serve Alpo.” She actually did say something quite like that in 1988 (after her indictment on tax evasion): “Only the little people pay taxes.” I’m surprised that’s not on her gravestone. (Is it? I can’t read, you know.)

Oh, she hated taxes. Probably as much as President Bush. In fact, if that dog of his, Barney, and I ever got together, we would have some stories to tell. (Okay, bark about.)

And speaking of Barney, does anyone complain about that equally small mutt living at one of the world’s most famous addresses? No. Kids can write to him at the White House and get a letter back from him. (Like he’s fooling anyone.) He even stars in a corny Christmas video every year and everyone thinks it’s a riot.
Hey, Barn -- I starred in TV commercials for the Helmsley Hotels. I know my way around a camera, too, pal. (And my owner may have started plenty of fights, but at least she never started a war.)

So I was left $12 million. What can I say? Sue me.

Yes, it’s a lot of money for a dog. But it’s not like she didn’t leave a dime for anyone else. Her brother gets $10 million. (That has to hurt, though, beaten by a pooch.) Two of her four grandchildren get $5 million each. Okay, it’s true, the other two get zilch. “I have not made any provisions in this will” for them, she said, “for reasons which are known to them.”

Yikes. I don’t know what they did or said to piss her off right into the afterlife, but it must have been something good. Not that it took that much, come to think of it. Over the years, she had people fired for just about anything. You don’t get “Queen of Mean” crown by being a peachy boss, that’s for sure.

But she certainly liked me. Personally, I think it was just other humans she had trouble with. (Get it?) So yeah, I am pretty much all set. And when I go, I get my own spot in the Helmsley mausoleum. ‘Course, it’s also right next to her.
Oh, well.

But for now, it’s a dog’s life for me. Woof.