George Booth, New Yorker Cartoonist of Sublime Zaniness, Dies at 96

George Booth, the New Yorker cartoonist who created a world of oddballs sharing life’s chaos with a pointy-eared bull terrier that once barked a flower to death died on Tuesday at his home in Brooklyn.

So, I could have shown him a thing or two about: zany, oddball, barking, and especially cats. 

The New Yorker? Sometimes they line my cage with old issues, so I've seen dog and cat cartoons over the years. Most of them are not all that funny in my opinion. 

Booth owned a few cats but no dogs, as he explained he “doesn’t much care for them" — which is a surprise considering how well he captures them in his cartoons. 

Whatever. I'm not so sure he and I would have gotten along anyhow. But, I would have let him draw my portrait. I'm good at posing and you can bet your life I'm good at looking fierce. 

Some Booth pets had fine tastes in music, and ankles. A naughty cat is carried off by its mistress in an inglorious neck-and-bottom hold. An angry saxophone player rubs his wounded ankle. And the man of the house, holding his violin bow after an interrupted duet, leans over solicitously, and says: “I do apologize, Rinehart. The cat has never bitten anyone previously.”

Listen, says Mikey, you damn well bet if I'd been there, that would have been the last time that cat bit anything. Just saying.

Mikey @home in Santa Olaya, PR

Mikey, on the porch at Casa Mulero, Santa Olaya, PR
[ 08/03/19 -- 7:15AM ]

35mm color film portrait by German Roque

I have to say, that's how I prefer my hurricanes -- quiet.

Although, in storms like this one, they don't bother to bring me in the house.

photo by German R., in Santurce, PR  arts district.

Pelea de perros (Dog Fight) 1658

painting by Jan Baptist Weenie made in the Netherlands
oil on linen

acquired by the Ferre family and gifted to the Ponce Art Museum in Ponce, PR in 1958

"Are you kidding?" 

"I try to be everyone's best friend," says Mikey.

"Although, sometimes it doesn't always work out that way..."

"That's what you think," says Mikey.

The best thing is when they have friends over for dinner. They eat together outside on the porch. They take me off the leash. I sit next to them. Someone is always dropping food onto the ground. And, when dinner is over, I get to eat all the scraps. What could be better?

They went somewhere the other day, and left me here -- on my own. But, I'm not all alone. This place is actually like a resort for dogs. Four square meals every day. Lots of other dogs for company.. Comfortable beds. Exercise. Regular attention. What more could a dog ask for? Except maybe a large bone. Or, a few good-sized lizards to chase and bite the heads off of when they're caught.

Photo taken at Clínica Veterinaria Rexville in Bayamon, PR

https://www.veterinariosdepr.com/veterinaria-rexville-125

The other day I learned from him that his daughter thinks all dogs, regardless of age, are puppies. Seems to me that she should know. She's got a dog of her own. When she's around, she treats me like I'm a youngster, and I do my best to return the favor. So if you ask me, my answer to that question is a very definite, "Yup."

"Like that quote inside the dog bone," says Mikey. "I know a thing or two about paw prints ..."

BEWARE OF DOG sign, New Orleans, Oct. 2017

"They say it's good. Who am I to question that?" says Mikey.

WOOF'S TAVERN, downtown Madison, WI

Lake Michigan fishing charter boat in the harbor, Port Washington, WI

Harbor Park, Port Washington, WI -- pictured: Lydia and Crosbie

Milwaukee Art Museum
Gift of Mrs. Harry Lynde Bradley M1975.143

OTHER VERSIONS via google image

"Oh yeah," says Mikey

"SAYS YOU," SEZ MIKEY

Mikey tips his hat to --  Mike Zdeb, the 1956 NYS Dept of Mental Hygiene pamphlet series, and Chic Young.

"It's Sunday the fourth of June," says Mikey. 

THE 56th SUNDAY JUNE 4th IN THE PAST 400 YEARS (14% chance of occurring) ...

June 4 is the 155th day of the year (156th in leap years) in the Gregorian calendar.
There are 210 days remaining until the end of the year. This date is slightly more likely
to fall on a Monday, Thursday or Saturday (58 in 400 years each) than on Tuesday or Wednesday (57),
and slightly less likely to occur on a Friday or Sunday (56) says Wikipedia.

I like it when people visit, says Mikey. Most of the time, anyhow. Sometimes, when they have visitors, they tie me up. On the porch, away from the guests, or worse yet, in the backyard, away from everything. "Does he bite?" the visitors will ask. Only if you're an iguana, a cat, or an overly aggressive dog, I'm thinking. So, I try to control myself, act all friendly, and usually at some point they relent, untie me and things are sort of back to normal. 

On the other hand, when they get long-term visitors, overnight, or sometimes for a few days, like these two ..

Sideshow, Rutland, VT State Fair, 1941

"Wow," says Mikey.

"Unlike him -- SHE NEVER forgets to take me for a walk..."

Marker on Bristol board, 9 x 12 in. Santa Olaya, PR, 01/21/17

December 31, 2016
Santa Olaya, PR
The Mulero Valley

In general I like holidays. They always seem to be in a good mood. He gives me more attention. She gives me more table scraps, and in general, the scrapings are better. Tonight is no exception, except they are arguing. He keeps saying, "Mikey's an outside dog! He's fine being outdoors." Then she counters, "Maybe so, but tonight let's bring him indoors. At least until the noise stops!" Back and forth, like that.

Now if you remember, he is right (click here for the back story: How I came to live in the Mulero Valley) but she's got the right idea. It is noisy out here (click to view: New Year's Eve in the Mulero Valley) Also it is nice in there. Cushy, inviting, and they've got a great couch. I know, I was on it once. There was a hurricane. He made me a shelter on the porch. She said, "No way! We're bringing Mikey inside." "O.K.!" I said. As soon as we get inside I see the couch. I make a beeline, and I'm up before you can say Jackie Robinson. "Mikey! Get off that couch!" she yells at me. Oops. Guess that wasn't such a good idea, was it?

Now, we're inside again. I'm biding my time. Laying low, keeping quiet. They're watching a DVD, something called Moulin Rouge. Lots of music and laughter. The movie is pretty noisy, but whatever, she's feeding me little snacks. He seems to be in a good mood. Then suddenly, I'm in the room by myself and there's that couch. Who could resist? 

"Mikey! Get off that couch!" she's yelling at me.

"That's it! Back outside!!" he counters, and she doesn't resist. They're back in synch, and I'm back outdoors. 

Oh well, guess I'll just have to wait for the next hurricane, or holiday. 

Meanwhile, in case you're having a hangover from too much of last night, here's a compendium of hair-of-the-dog remedies (*)

1. Japan -- eat umeboshi, a pickled, dried plum, soaked in a salty brine.
2. Germany -- eat katerfrühstück (hangover breakfast) pickled herring wrapped around pickle and onion.
3. Canada -- eat poutine, thick-cut french fries, with cheese curds, smothered in gravy with fresh pepper corns.
4. Turkey -- eat Tripe soup, innards boiled with garlic, onion, and sometimes cream.
5. U.S. (west) -- eat Prairie Oyster, Worcestershire sauce, hot sauce, salt n' pepper, and a whole raw egg.
6. U.S. (east) -- eat Eggs Benedict, poached egg, ham, and hollandaise sauce, on top of an English muffin.

(*) source: gizmodo.com

"You bet," says Mikey.