An interview with the late Leona Helmsley’s dog, Trouble.
Trouble, a Maltese, has recently inherited $12 million in the convicted hotelier’s
will.
Q: So how does it feel to be the richest dog in America?
T: It’s OK, I guess.
Q: How has having $12 million changed your life?
T: It hasn’t, really. I’m a dog. I don’t have extravagant
tastes.
Q: Were you aware that two of Mrs. Helmsley’s own
grandchildren were given nothing?
T: I heard about it, yes. It was all over the news. I feel
very badly for them — they lost their grandmother in the prime of her life.
Q: She was 87.
T: Exactly. She had so much to live for.
Q: Do you have any knowledge about why they might have been
disinherited so cruelly?
T: It had something to do with not naming their children after
Harry.
Q: Harry Helmsley, Mrs. Helmsley’s late husband? Her third
husband?
T: Yes. Of course, he was not actually related to the
grandchildren in question.
Q: Well, how could they be expected to do that?
T: That’s nothing. The other two have been required to visit
his grave every calendar year in order to get their money.
Q: What was it like to live with such a despotic woman?
T: Look: my life has been, and will continue to be,
exceptionally comfortable. I have no complaints.
Q: Not one?
T: Well, maybe one. The food’s undergone a vast improvement.
Nowadays I get a bowl of Also, which I like. Most dogs do. It’s tasty. Day in,
day out, I don’t mind it. But before, she insisted her chef made me this dish —
literally, the dish was edible.
Q: How odd!
T: Yeah, it looked like your regular dog bowl, right, but it
was green and made out of some molded lime gelatin with iceberg lettuce and
onions all embedded in it.
Q: Wow.
T: And in the middle was always something fancy like tuna
salad or beef tips, but all dolled-up. Honestly, I could have used a bone every
now and then. I’m a dog, you know? And she’d stand there expecting me to eat
it, like she’d done me some big f*cking favor. Sorry, I don’t usually use bad
language.
Q: That’s OK. You were under duress.
T: Despite my name, I’m no trouble. I’m pretty laid back. I
used to bite people, but I’ve stopped that now. There’s no need. We used to
have this running joke: “you’re the bitch,” “No, you’re the bitch.” It wasn’t very funny, but I played along.
Q: Certainly. Are you aware that Mrs. Helmsley has asked
that you be buried with her when you die?
T: Ain’t gonna happen. I had my lawyer already look in to
it. In the State of New York, you are not allowed to inter animals with people.
I dodged that bullet. I’m going to be cremated instead. No muss, no fuss.
Q: Thank you for your time, Trouble. And best of luck for
the future.
T: Sure thing.
(Note: Trouble’s inheritance was later reduced to $2
million, the remainder going in part to Leona Helmsley’s two disinherited
grandchildren. She lived to be 12 years old and was, indeed, cremated.)
