welcome-to-the-neighborhood committee.
He was still asking the painter about the alleged six-foot wall.
After I sent him that email saying we weren‘t building one! He didn‘t believe me! This guy I had to meet.
Dean and I hurried outside and walked right up to him.
Dean said hello and shook his hand. I grabbed him, hugged him, and said, ―Oh my God, I‘m so excited to finally meet you in person. I‘m so glad to be in the neighborhood. The whole time I‘d been telling Dean, ―We have to kill him with kindness. I‘m telling you. I believe in this. So I hugged Wally, and when I stepped back, I saw his whole facial expression change. The tenseness drained out. It was genius. He was super nice from that moment on. And just like that, hope sprung anew.
I couldn‘t blame our neighbors for having their doubts about the celebrities next door, but they‘d get to know us, we‘d get to know them, and soon enough we‘d all be playing kickball in the palm-tree-lined streets. Or at least our kids would be while we drank fruity cocktails from a punch bowl. The suburban dream was alive again.
End of an Era
T here was an emptiness in our new house. I knew it was coming. I knew it the minute I found out that Stella was going to be born on Mimi‘s birthday. I knew Mimi was going to die. You know, one life finishes when another one starts, circle of life, all that.
Mimi was a true Hollywood pug. She wore couture clothes, which I kept in a little armoire. She would have it no other way.
People chastised me for dressing her, but you have to believe me when I tell you that Mimi felt naked without clothes. When she heard the sound of me opening the armoire, she always came flying, howling with excitement. She loved getting dressed and would push her little front legs through the sleeves. I swear, any doubter who watched me dress Mimi became a believer. Put that pug in a dress and pearls and she was happy.
Mimi starred with me in my series So NoTORIous on VH1.
Any time you see a dog in a scripted show, it‘s a trained dog.
Not Mimi. The script would say, ―Mimi runs across the room, jumps into Tori‘s arms, and howls. I‘d get nervous. Mimi had many qualities, but obedience wasn‘t top of the list. Stardom was, however. Mimi hit her mark every time. She was a true performer. As befit a star of her stature, Mimi walked the red carpets (okay, she was carried). The paparazzi would shout,
―Over here, Mimi! and she‘d turn, pose, and wait for the flash.
Mimi was a star, but she wasn‘t immortal. I already knew she was on her way out. She was eleven years old, which is very old for a pug. She was never a very healthy dog. She had problems with her hips, neck, breathing, heart; it‘s actually amazing how many problems she packed into that little pug body of hers. I always gave her the best medical care I could find—top vets, holistic treatments, acupuncture, water therapy, massage, pain management counseling, and plenty of love. (I‘m joking about the pain management counseling. Sort of.) The morning of Stella and Mimi‘s birthday (Mimi: eleven, Stella: zero) I‘d been a little put out that I had to deal with Mimi‘s birthday—the cake, putting her in a dress, taking pictures. Seriously, a dog party? On the day I might die in childbirth? But now I thank God I did it. One week later—just three days after we came home from the hospital—I was in pain from my C-section, so though I usually come downstairs with Liam for breakfast, that day I stayed in bed. Patsy brought me Stella whenever she needed to nurse. Around two p.m. I was nestled in bed, and Paola had brought Liam up for a visit. Liam opened a magazine. There was an ad for our show in it, featuring Mimi. Liam pointed right at her and said, ―Mimi! Mimi! for the first time.
Maybe Liam knew something at that moment that none of the rest of us knew. Soon after that I finally got out of bed to get some lunch. Dean stopped me on the stairs and said,
He was still asking the painter about the alleged six-foot wall.
After I sent him that email saying we weren‘t building one! He didn‘t believe me! This guy I had to meet.
Dean and I hurried outside and walked right up to him.
Dean said hello and shook his hand. I grabbed him, hugged him, and said, ―Oh my God, I‘m so excited to finally meet you in person. I‘m so glad to be in the neighborhood. The whole time I‘d been telling Dean, ―We have to kill him with kindness. I‘m telling you. I believe in this. So I hugged Wally, and when I stepped back, I saw his whole facial expression change. The tenseness drained out. It was genius. He was super nice from that moment on. And just like that, hope sprung anew.
I couldn‘t blame our neighbors for having their doubts about the celebrities next door, but they‘d get to know us, we‘d get to know them, and soon enough we‘d all be playing kickball in the palm-tree-lined streets. Or at least our kids would be while we drank fruity cocktails from a punch bowl. The suburban dream was alive again.
End of an Era
T here was an emptiness in our new house. I knew it was coming. I knew it the minute I found out that Stella was going to be born on Mimi‘s birthday. I knew Mimi was going to die. You know, one life finishes when another one starts, circle of life, all that.
Mimi was a true Hollywood pug. She wore couture clothes, which I kept in a little armoire. She would have it no other way.
People chastised me for dressing her, but you have to believe me when I tell you that Mimi felt naked without clothes. When she heard the sound of me opening the armoire, she always came flying, howling with excitement. She loved getting dressed and would push her little front legs through the sleeves. I swear, any doubter who watched me dress Mimi became a believer. Put that pug in a dress and pearls and she was happy.
Mimi starred with me in my series So NoTORIous on VH1.
Any time you see a dog in a scripted show, it‘s a trained dog.
Not Mimi. The script would say, ―Mimi runs across the room, jumps into Tori‘s arms, and howls. I‘d get nervous. Mimi had many qualities, but obedience wasn‘t top of the list. Stardom was, however. Mimi hit her mark every time. She was a true performer. As befit a star of her stature, Mimi walked the red carpets (okay, she was carried). The paparazzi would shout,
―Over here, Mimi! and she‘d turn, pose, and wait for the flash.
Mimi was a star, but she wasn‘t immortal. I already knew she was on her way out. She was eleven years old, which is very old for a pug. She was never a very healthy dog. She had problems with her hips, neck, breathing, heart; it‘s actually amazing how many problems she packed into that little pug body of hers. I always gave her the best medical care I could find—top vets, holistic treatments, acupuncture, water therapy, massage, pain management counseling, and plenty of love. (I‘m joking about the pain management counseling. Sort of.) The morning of Stella and Mimi‘s birthday (Mimi: eleven, Stella: zero) I‘d been a little put out that I had to deal with Mimi‘s birthday—the cake, putting her in a dress, taking pictures. Seriously, a dog party? On the day I might die in childbirth? But now I thank God I did it. One week later—just three days after we came home from the hospital—I was in pain from my C-section, so though I usually come downstairs with Liam for breakfast, that day I stayed in bed. Patsy brought me Stella whenever she needed to nurse. Around two p.m. I was nestled in bed, and Paola had brought Liam up for a visit. Liam opened a magazine. There was an ad for our show in it, featuring Mimi. Liam pointed right at her and said, ―Mimi! Mimi! for the first time.
Maybe Liam knew something at that moment that none of the rest of us knew. Soon after that I finally got out of bed to get some lunch. Dean stopped me on the stairs and said,
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