By: centraljersey.com
There’s a lot going on hereabouts that could go in a reporter’s notebook.
But I can’t get into any of it.
Right now – it’s not a midlife crisis, I assure you, because midlife ended some time ago.
All I can think about is Lola, a young good-looking blonde. Lola has kind of taken over for now, and I’m fine with that.
Lola’s irresistible. Every time I turn around, I’m doing something for her. Rock on!
I met Lola in lower Manhattan on Mott Street between Houston and Bleeker streets, next door to a pool hall, on a Saturday night. I took her home. Things haven’t been the same since. But they never are when you’re in love. Right, boss?
But it’s OK. My wife was with me when I picked up Lola.
No, it’s not like that, silly.
Lola’s a dog.
I was the last one in the house to agree to getting another dog. There are a few reasons for that. One is that, like everyone else here, I was very attached to our last dog, Bessie, who died eight years ago. Her passing left me feeling somewhat like a widower who didn’t ever want to get married again.
Then there’s the fact I have helped potty train two kids and numerous dogs and cats and didn’t want to potty train any being ever again. Also, there’s the issue of having to take the dog out no matter what the weather is doing. That job usually falls to me when the weather isn’t fit for man nor beast.
But to make a long story short, I was outnumbered 3 to 1 here at home and so agreed to get another dog. I voted for a mutt with some Lab in it. Our last two dogs, Bessie and Louie, were like that, and they were great pooches.
So my wife spent some time searching on the Internet and found a possibility.
So we drove to lower Manhattan last Saturday night and parked the car for a day’s pay or so. We went to 307 Mott St. and met Lola and one of her sisters.
The sister was the runt of the litter, and we were inclined to take her at first. She was just a heartbreaker, that’s all.
Then we wanted to take Lola. Then we considered, for a mad moment, taking both.
It was a hard choice, but we took Lola, who got named after much debate two days later. I wanted to name her Isabella, but was overruled.
The in-house agreement on names was everyone had veto power. Our youngest son, who still lives at home, vetoed Isabella. He said it took too long to say. He said everyone would just say "Bella," which would remind me of Bela Lugosi, who played Dracula in one of my favorite movies.
"Do you want your dog’s name to remind you of a vampire?" the son wanted to know.
"I guess not," I admitted.
I’ll never forget the walk we took through Little Italy after we adopted Lola. Talk about a chick magnet, Lola is it. Every time I turned around, a flock of good-looking Italian girls – for whom I have a thing still; my Mom was a country girl born near Naples – were running toward me with dewy eyes and outstretched arms and lips poised for a big smooch as they crooned "Awwwwwww!"
It wasn’t me they were after, possibly needless to say. It was Lola. They all wanted to pet 9-week old Lola, who has this very innocent, vulnerable expression on such a cute face.
After we took Lola, you see, we decided to walk to Ferrara’s bakery on Grand Street, a distance of a half dozen blocks or so. I was carrying Lola and we, that is to say she, got as much attention as a movie star.
It was the ladies who went for Lola. She brought out the maternal instinct in them, it seemed.
While my wife was inside Ferrara’s, buying a box full of their awesome cannolis, I waited outside with Lola. More pretty Italian girls, three of them, came to pet the dog. It was all right.
"Oh, what’s her name?" one of the girls, who looked like Sophia Loren, wanted to know.
"Haven’t named her yet," I said. "Got any ideas?"
"Isabella," the young lady replied, and it sounded great the way she said it.
"I like that," I said.
But, like I say, the family wouldn’t agree to Isabella. Too bad. I still think that name fits her.
She has so much charisma, and what’s more charismatic than a good-looking blonde Italian? And we did get her in an Italian neighborhood.
I don’t remember who suggested Lola. But it fits her.
What Lola wants, Lola gets.
Sorry if this sounds a little garbled. Lola chewed up the USB port on our computer’s mouse the other day. The new mouse is working a little funny.
She’s worth it. Besides, between us, she’ll always be Isabella to me. But that’s another story.
John Tredrea is staff writer for the Hopewell Valley News.

