CELEBRITY SCRAPES

What to Do with Doggy Doo?

Americans haven’t always been so concerned about cleaning up after their canine companions. Until fairly recently, people let their doggies do their thing, and then left the doo on the streets and sidewalks. A few conscientious souls did take the time to curb their dogs. In doing so, they were following the advice of experts. But what exactly is curbing?

Curbing is the polite term for a canine waste disposal method that really should be called the Shove-It-Into-the-Sewer approach. A curbed dog is one who’s been taught to poop in the street, right by the curb, so that the next rainstorm can sweep his deposits into the nearest gutter. Once in the gutter, the poop and lots of other waste wind their way through a city’s sewer system and, eventually, into nearby creeks, streams, and rivers. Those final destinations are one reason curbing is a questionable canine waste disposal method.

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heY!

“If I Did It”

Excerpt from Chapter One…

“…Something had to give. Four years in an Air-Stream and the same inane movie day in and day out. One loser business scheme after another. One more day, one more town, one more bad hamburger. I was getting grumpy. Sure, the babes were women, and the nerf ball gigs Norm left-brained were showing promise with the kids on the college scene. But I needed more. I wanted, had to bail off this greyhound’s life, and longed for the halcyon days of my middle-age, hurdling airport bleachers in my kor-fam Bruno Magli’s. I was feeling like a loafer, and was starting to look “butt-ugly” in the men’s room. It just wasn’t a good fit, Norm and me, and one of us had to go. Oh sure, some would say I should have never left the socks beside the fold-out futon, and what if Kato really wasn’t stoned and heard the thump, thump, thump on the door of the head? I didn’t think Norm had to go. It was all too slow-moving for me, and bore no fruit. I had a plan, a good plan. I’d have to use Kato, he was wearing out his bus pass anyhow, and he was perfect – what with being a foreigner from Venice, Beach, I think, and I knew he had to be wired-up. You see, I’d get Kato to ride shotgun and pay with his allowance at the next Burger King, giving me plenty of time to poison that dog food of a burger I knew Norm wouldn’t resist. Norm loved his big Whoppers. One bite, and poof, Norm no more! Why not? If I did it, maybe, I’d used something like this before, and it was sorta working, right? Me, hah! I’d un-hook the Bronco from the trailer ball, withdraw my 401K and be long gone around the corner to the Ocean Course at Doral, finally working, getting rid of that duck hook of mine. Nobody would suspect a thing. After all, if I did it, I had the time to do the crime…”

…But something was wrong, terribly wrong. Kato was up as usual for his early morning skate down by the retention pond and that was cool, but restless, having not eaten that night, Norm wanted to tag along. How could this be happening, I thought? Norm, should have…

“Look, Kato, is that a dead dog out there on the pier?” Norm pointed.

“Yeah, dood, that’s the ninth one out there this week.”

“But dogs aren’t allowed at this Country Club, are they?” Norm puzzled.

“Dunno, brah, the Juice man oughta know better. He’s right over there on the practice tee,” shrugged Kato.

heY, thanks for reading!

~ anemi