A while ago I shared our little secret of mice in the neighborhood. So I got a cat, Dingo, and since I got Dingo I haven’t seen any more mice. Now I was sitting on my porch the other day and I saw a stray cat walk by with a mouse in its mouth. And I thought – awesome! Why don’t we let nature run its course. Now don’t get me wrong, I like my cat and I’m glad Dingo has a nice home but would it be so wrong if we had dozens of cats on the street to take care of our mice problem? Wait, would we then have a cat problem?


But they are too good not to post. Thank God scoop and poop rhyme or I don’t how they’d word these signs. The halo over the dog makes this sign the best in my opinion. I dare say, it makes the sign outstanding.


Against all odds the Brightwood Bird has won a stunning upset. We have seen some unbelievably cool cats and dogs but this bird has a certain je ne sais quoi.   So congratulations Bird. And to the owners, you have won a PoP t-shirt. Cheers.


It is my pleasure to introduce a new feature here on Prince of Petworth. Intangible Tales will be a monthly column penned by one of my favorite DC bloggers, Intangible Arts. Above you can see Intangible Arts with his pup. Without any further ado, read on for part one of Intangible Tales.

PUP WITH PEOPLE

DC is dogtown, make no mistake. Or at least, the neighborhoods I frequent have a thriving dog population, from Logan Circle (work) to Columbia Heights/Park View (home): there’s always someone strolling with a dog. Or being dragged by one.

And to me, it makes a neighborhood more inviting. Dogs are beasts who thrive on pure joy. Once a neighborhood gains a healthy population of well cared-for canines, the vibe extends far beyond the owners: It strengthens the community in meaningful ways.

I lived in Columbia Heights years ago, during a time that many remember with shudders and the sound of frequent gunfire in the streets at night. I was renting a share of a rowhouse basement and couldn’t afford a meal more exotic than ramen noodles and coffee, so a dog was out of the question.

Eventually, I got an offer to move in with a friend in upstate New York and possibly break into publishing, and took it. But I missed my spot on Monroe Street, by the rotten shell of the Tivoli Theater. I figured, I’ll go to NY, find a career, and come back to BUY one of those victorian rowhouses, get my dog, and be a freakin’ hero. That was 1990.   (Story  continues after the jump.) (more…)


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