Ladies and Gentlemen, meet "Hagatha" (pictured above, to the left). I guess there's no polite way to say it: Hagatha looks like she waltzed right out of the pages of a Grimm Fairy tale ... with the emphasis on Grim. Her voice is raspy, she cackles for no apparent reason and rumor has it she lives in a Gingerbread House somewhere East of 26th Street. But she has a heart of gold. Every morning she tries to pet Charlie, the irascible sheepdog ... and every morning someone needs to restrain Charlie from lunging at her. Today it was my turn. "What a little Cutie Pie!," she said, as usual, inching closer and closer, "I simply must pet him!" "He's very unpredictable, you shouldn't pet him. He nips!," I warned her, yet again. "Oh Cutsey, Wootsie," she said, "I'll bet if you brought him here every day he'd get used to me." I couldn't very well tell her the truth -- that Charlie only nips at Suspicious Characters and French Bulldogs -- so, instead, I said, "He's been coming here day after day for more than five years and he still nips." By now Hagatha had turned her attention to Baby Ben, who was sitting nearby in Joyce's lap. "What a Little Cutie Pie," she said. "This is Ben," explained Joyce, "He also nips, but he doesn't have any teeth ...!"