Amazon
Category:
Humor
Publisher: Self Published
ISBN-10: 97983772448995
Type: Non-Fiction
Pages: 143
Copyright: Jan. 3, 2023
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
Sal Marino is a Funist..,
If you love dogs, you'll hate him. If you hate dogs, you'll love him. Either way, his new book is full of funny stuff.
One thing is certain,
Sal Marino is a Funist.
Standing firmly on his self-cultivated beliefs and wry jovial opinions, Marino has no filters and will take whatever path necessary to get people to look and ultimately laugh at their own reflections. Not one to conform to Political Correctness, he has no known fear of pushing boundaries, especially in pursuit of audience laughter. It’s the giggles that give us balance.
“Why I Hate Dogs–Confessions of a Grump” is Marino’s unapologetic aim at dogs, dog lovers and the comical realities that puncutuate their lives, and unfortunately the deep treads of his sneakers…. Here is an amusing look at man’s best friend through the eyes of a grump
Excerpt
Doggy Do
I find it incredibly amusing. Everyone seems to have a dog. Some people even have two dogs. And this is in a metropolitan area inhabited predominantly by high rise apartment dwellers with limited living space. I live in a beautiful modern complex along the water in Stamford Connecticut, where it is relatively serene, and in the summer, from a settings standpoint, a pleasurable place to be. The picturesque cluster of buildings is on a man-made peninsula, bordered by canals, inlets, parks, Marina’s, and the Long Island sound. It is expensive to live here, but the upscale environment provides some insulation from what is often perceived to be a lesser desirable environment that a big city has to offer. This is Connecticut, the land of the elitists and double standards, so it stands to reason there are obvious contradictions, with an ample sampling of individuals who walk around with their head up their ass.
The population is fairly young. I believe the median age to be approximately thirty-seven, predominately white, with the exception of the government mandated integration of rich and poor, despite the fact that the poor simply can’t afford to live here. For that, the government subsidizes their rents so that the poor can live as the rich, with no regard to their financial status. So much for free market capitalism and the accoutrements of success. In this progressive landscape, the rich get to work for the poor. It is an epidemic that is raging across the nation, but we can talk politics and sociology at another time.
Most residents here are single and unmarried, yet many live as a couple. Most of them work, with the exception of the stay at home Mommies and Daddies, and those who work from home since the pandemic. I’m willing to bet that most of them live outside their means, but this is the Northeast Coastline where elitism, (real or Memorex) is vogue. Young families make up a small percentage of the population here, but they are somewhat visible, nonetheless. You see them aloofly strolling along the promenade with the baby carriages and their pedigree dogs in tow, never once making eye contact with any other human. Acknowledging others is not something the younger generation seems to be fond of, nor do they seem to have any interest in making new friends, especially those outside their age bracket. Instead, the focus is straight ahead, remaining intentionally isolated from the world around them. Perhaps it is just a geographical affliction, impacted by the water they drink or the air they breathe, but frankly their ‘head up their ass’ attitude leaves much to be desired. If this is the general attitude of a generation, then we as a nation are in trouble. But again, we can talk about sociological issues another time. For now, I’ll try to keep it about dogs.
The building I live in and most of the other surrounding structures have a ‘Pet Friendly’ policy which allows dogs, cats and possibly some other non-human lifeforms to cohabitate. I haven’t seen any horses in the hallways, so for now at least, I think we’re safe. However, there is a couple living in a small one bedroom apartment with two Great Danes, so the horse issue may not be such an abstract.
With approximately two thousand apartments in the immediate area and a dog or two in just about every unit, it makes for quite a number of those little green doggy poop bags that are deposited in the outdoor trash bins each and every day. The trash bins line the walkways and you’re hard pressed to take a fresh breath, even though you stroll outdoors, along the waterfront. Unfortunately, the elitists are far too pristine and privileged to tie the bags closed, so they simply get tossed in the bins, steeping in the sun. The dichotomy of their attitude is that they are too aloof to soil their elitism by interacting with humans, while they joyfully pick up dog shit several times a day. Even if they were sociable, you might want to refrain from shaking hands. And oh, those hot, humid summer days are such a breath of fresh air.
I was never a very strong advocate for dog ownership, especially in cramped quarters. However, since the pandemic, it seems that everyone acted to fill some void in their life by getting a dog. Now, I’m not saying that pets aren’t adorable when they are puppies, but the fact is that eventually they turn into dogs. Once the puppy fascination starts to wear off, hard core realities and responsibilities set in.
Having a dog requires the owner to enter into a relationship of confirmed, unmitigated servitude in walking and feeding your pet. In rain, snow, heat and cold, both day and night, seven days a week, several times a day, the pet owner is bound to the up and down elevator rides of tending to the natural bodily functions of your ‘best friend.’ In short order you begin to question the friendship and you even contemplate skipping a meal or three in an effort to retard Fido’s elevator urges. But it is such fun when the elevator stops at each and every floor from twenty down, only to have the surprise guest bestow accolades on your cute little puppy that you probably heard twenty times already today. Eventually you’ll tire of this attention and simply wish everyone would mind their own friggin business. After all, you’re aloof and you really don’t like or trust people, so maintaining your anonymity and non-committal persona becomes quite the contest in such close quarters.
The elevator itself presents its own set of circumstances for pet owners and non-pet owners alike. You see, puppies, as well as adult dogs, are easily conditioned by the up and down rides and become highly excited when they anticipate one of the most exciting events of the day, taking a leak. Invariably, an excited dribble or two graces the floor of the elevator before Rover gets a chance to lift his leg on the challenged maple tree outside the front door. It’s understandable. It’s a friggin dog.
The real problem is that the maintenance crew is not on call 24/7, so an accumulation of dribbles always seems to be present in the elevators at all times. In the times when the maintenance crew does indeed mop up the dog pee, remnant olfactory traces remain and absorb into the flooring. This is problematic, because every time a new dog gets in the elevator and gets a nostril full of that delightful triggering scent left behind by previous dribbles and the incomplete mopping, another few dribbles hit the floor. And sometimes, it’s not just a dribble. I initially questioned residents wearing rain boots and hip waders, but now I think I understand. On occasion, pets leave behind presents other than liquid, and that’s when elevator rides get interesting. I put a note in the suggestion box requesting a clothes pin dispenser in the elevators to assist those individuals with sensitive nostrils, but so far management has not responded.
Yet another elevator concern is dirty dogs. You always know when a filthy mutt, one who hasn’t had a bath in more than a year or two, has been on the elevator. It stinks! And the stink lingers long after the mutt has exited, so you stand there holding your breath, hoping that you get to your floor before you pass out from oxygen deprivation. If the stinker is still present when you step aboard, and if you’re one of those friendly sorts that likes to rub a pup on the head when it’s in the close proximity of the elevator, you’re going to need a Pine Sol bath upon exit. Don’t even think of inconspicuously smelling your hand. You’ll get a knee-jerk reaction and wind up slapping the elderly woman standing next to you.
The other olfactory delight that filthy dogs provide is ‘Dog Breath.’ This is yet another repulsive and lingering odor, but what else would you expect from something that licks its own butt? Often times, many dog owners are immune to this odor and it is universally believed that these individuals have a severely deviated septum or perhaps are recovering cocaine addicts with a broken sniffer. Wondering what their apartments might smell like, elevator rides just may be a respiratory reprieve they look forward to several times a day. With the front door just steps away, dog owners always can be seen sprinting for the exit hoping that a stiff breeze will be blowing outside. Dog kisses are definitely not a recommended activity. Sleepovers with apartment dwelling dog owners might also be questionable, especially if Rover normally beds with its owner. Talk about multiple partners and morning breath…
Once the pup has been ushered outside, or should I say the owner forcefully dragged outside, there are several activity choices the owner can direct. First and foremost will be the tree, or highly decorated grass patches in front of the building. I know they can do some spectacular things with horticulture these days, but isn’t the brown grass supposed to be green? Additionally, a man would have to have six or seven toilet bowls available to him if he urinated in patterns like a dog. I guess dogs are really just eccentric, frustrated decorators. Put a little yellow here…a little yellow there…and a touch of brown right here…Perfect!
The next activity can be a stroll along the promenade where the long, wide patch of grass which runs the length of three apartment buildings, is probably the finest dog toilet I have ever seen. Being the prankster I am, I never let on to the many sunbathers, just exactly on what they are lounging. I suppose they have problems with deviated septum’s as well. You would think that watching the never ending parade of dog owners, dangling those cute little green dog poop bags as they stroll would give it away, but maybe the sunbathers have a secret affinity for dogs and just adore the associated aroma.
Making a complete loop around the buildings and into a large center courtyard, you come upon an area which has been titled a Dog Park. The fenced Dog Park is carpeted in Astro Turf and on a hot sunny day emits the pungent odor of dog urine and other solid waste which is certain to make your pup sit up at attention. No wonder why dogs enjoy playing there! Dogs love to wallow in, well, stinking stuff… For someone with a honker as sensitive as mine, passing through this area is an exercise of sheer determination in not tossing my cookies. It Stinks!
One more tidbit about the Dog Park is that of the half of the total apartments in the complex which face the area, every one of them enjoy the delightful morning, afternoon, and evening sounds of multiple dogs of all shapes, sizes and vocal acuity barking incessantly in their playful doggie lullaby. Thank God for earplugs. In essence, observing The Dog Park is much like observing the adjacent Playground, where all the Mommies hover over their offspring, exchanging stories of their children’s bowel movements and other sorted non-interesting information, talking incessantly about nothing. It’s much the same with dogs. However, the dog Mommies seem a bit more enthusiastic about their leashed companions. We’ll get to that part of the observation in a bit.
If I had to draw a conclusion from this story, it would be that people (at least the ones around here) have a much greater affinity for dogs than for humans. Despite weather conditions and time of year, they get up early, making sure their dog is comfortable in the morning, afternoon, evening, and whatever time to address bodily functions. They make sure their pet has proper nourishment, sometimes providing food that is better in quality than that they eat themselves. They provide luxury living accommodations, considering that a dog wouldn’t know the difference and would be happy in a filthy junk yard. Their owners also apparently enjoy the odorous atmosphere dogs provide and think nothing of having full blown conversations with animals, who they believe fully understand each and every word. I suppose the solace is in knowing that dogs won’t argue. Why would they?
In my jealousy, I would hope that someone would cater to my bodily functions as attentively as dog owners do. I would hope that someone would make sure that I had nothing but the best to eat. I would hope that someone would provide the love and affection dog owners do for their pets and spend hours of conversation whispering confirmations and approvals, without any expectations of anything in return, except maybe a lick or two on the hand. In short, it would be nice to be King.
But I have to admit, there were times when I thought that my mannequin butler, Geeves, didn’t provide quite enough companionship to give me the love and serenity I so crave. Having a pet that you can cuddle, love, and if need be, kick, and it will still come back to lick your hand when all is said and done, just might be something to quell my restlessness. Then I thought of all those late night, cold, rainy walks, the scented wonderland, and those little green poop bags that dog owners so judiciously flaunt. No, if I ever get the urge to own a dog, I think I’ll get a stuffed one instead.
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