Page Six Cindy Adams and her Yorkies

TALK OF THE YORK

By Cindy Adams

(recently ran in the New York Post)

My Juicy is 4. My Jazzy Jr. is 3. Juicy, a girl,

is 31/2 pounds. The boy, my huge, killer attack dog Jazzy,

is 41/2 pounds. Trust me, Yorkies leave paw

prints on your heart.
Why? What's so great about a Yorkie?

A.) They're portable. I mean, try to go shopping

and stuff a Rottweiler in the pocket of your Carolina Herrera coat.

B.) They're snugglable. Jazzy is the only male currently sharing

my bed, but who needs any other? I put my cold feet on him.

He licks my face. And never bothers me next

morning with stupid questions like,

"So how was it for you?"

C.) They're lovable. They don't tell you when you have

a zit on your face or that you've gotten fat. They wait for you to

come home every night. They don't nag and ask where you've been.

D.) And Yorkies don't shed. They have hair, not fur,

so there is no dander, no problem for people with allergies.

When Joan Rivers lost her adored 19-year-old Spike,

she got herself another Yorkie. Amy Tan has two Yorkies.

Cupcake Nederlander, daughter of James Nederlander,

and Peaches Nederlander, daughter of James Nederlander Jr.,

have playdates with my Juicy and Jazzy. The Ralph Laurens' Yorkie,

Bikini, is the face in their ads. The Yorkie belonging to

Katherine Oliver, NYC's commissioner for TV and motion-picture

development, is Jazzy's cousin. Norman Sheresky, lawyer for

Christy Brinkley's divorcing husband, Peter Cook, has a

Yorkie named Biscuit. Biscuit, a product of my breeder,

Paula, is a relative of my Juicy.

New York is Yorkie country.

Of course, like anything with the name "York," they're tough.

A little demanding. I mean, Juicy is 31/2 pounds of pure selfish.

She owns nine of my 10 rooms. But she's very New York.

She loves The Post. Almost every night, I find her

poring over my column.

Do they ever cause difficulties? Yeah, oh yeah!

A Yorkie could have the house broken before they are.

And they're terriers. We're talking a slight habit of grabbing guys'

pants legs - with the guys' legs still in them.

And then there's the bills. Trainers, microchips, coats and sweaters,

grooming and hair bows, jeweled collars. Because they're now members

of the family, because today America spends $39 billion

a year on pets, little creatures with less hair than their

mothers have under the armpits are costing fortunes.

My two have teeth the size of bugle beads.

For a cleaning, including my 15 percent discount, $990.

Not that I don't love my vet, Dr. Berman. I do. I do.

But it's just that my own human dentist, Dr. Lazare, charges only $175.
Still, I love Jazzy and Juicy so much that in the will I'd leave

them my apartment if I thought they could pay the maintenance.

Liza's next song? "I Love New Yorkie."