Hey, sorry, but I don't love your dog

I know you love your dog. Yes, I am certain he is just the sweetest little snoogie-oogums in the whole world. But while I have many good qualities – am eager to let someone with a turn signal on cut in front of me in traffic, always put the toilet seat down – I just don’t much like your dog.

Actually, I don’t like it any less that I like most other dogs. And frankly, in the grand scheme of things, I don’t dislike dogs. On the “like” scale, for me, they’re above root canals and below fishing. Nah, that’s too harsh. In general I think dogs are good – some help lead people who are blind, and some retrieve shot birds that shall become dinner. So, in general dogs are good.

It’s dog owners I don’t much like. Well, OF COURSE not all dog owners. But dog owners who:
– Let their dogs rub their wet nose on my leg in the elevator.
– Take their dogs to the beach where there are signs that say “No dogs allowed.”
– Take their dogs anywhere there are signs that say “No dogs allowed.”
– To get real specific, take their stupid-ass dog on American Airlines flight 1284 on March 5, 2022, sit in first class with me, and are unable to control its barking for three-quarters of the way from Austin to Miami.

Here are my four questions I have for that young woman:
– When you offered to pay for the flight of the obviously disgruntled man, when he asserted he was a physician who “knows service dogs, and that is no service dog,” were you willing to pay for the flight for all of us?
– How did it happen – what were the circumstances of your upbringing – whereby you thought that simply reimbursing someone for the cost of the flight would make up for you ruining our experience? This was a special trip for me – my last “Spring Break” before retirement. So we sprang for first class. It was to be a true celebration. I was so looking forward to sitting in a big, comfortable, leather seat, having a Scotch, watching the Gulf of Mexico pass below, and recalling my many Spring Breaks to Florida as I listened to “Appalachian Spring” on my earphones. Hey wait, I don’t remember a dog barking piercingly at random intervals in “Appalachian Spring.” No, dear, reimbursing all of us for your trespass still wouldn’t’ve made it OK.
– After the first 49 times your unhappy dog yelped, and you said “Shhh,” to clearly no effect, did you really think the 50th “Shhh” might be of value?
– Would you please go pound salt?

Here are two recent scenes I’ve witnessed on Pensacola Beach. Pensacola Beach has at least one area set aside where dogs are welcome. On my “like” scale, still above root canals and below dogs is urine. I cannot imagine the relative urine-to-sand ratio at the dog section of Pensacola Beach, and choose not to think about it further. But on the “No dogs allowed” section of Pensacola Beach where we tend to go I have observed these two scenes:

– A couple, each with their own service dog. What’re the odds that two people in a relationship each – oh, nevermind. I’m sure it is possible. Anyway, the two people were 20 yards out in the Gulf while their two service dogs cavorted on the beach. So my two questions HERE are:
— WhatTF good is a service dog if you have an issue 20 yards out in the Gulf of Mexico?
— Am I less likely to get sick if I come into contact with some excretions of a service dog than with that of a regular ol’ dog?

– Second “No dogs allowed” scenario. Some guy and his snoogie-oogums giant German shepherd meet his buddies on “our” beach. Big ol’ Klaus, shocker, takes a huge dump. Klaus’s owner piles 10 or 12 inches of sand over the product. His thoughtful buddies shake their heads, say something to him, and the guy scoops his hands deep under everything and carries it further up the beach, closer to the dunes. Ah, much better.

I get it. The world is a mess. The pandemic sucks. We get to spend less time with people and so the companionship of pets has become even more important than ever. But it strikes me that the pendulum has swung too far when dogs (not just service dogs; all dogs) are so goddam accepted everywhere. Planes. Restaurants. Grocery stores. Which flight shall the person with pet dander allergies take? “Oh you evil man – you would have me not enjoy the company of my little Princess?” No, just keep her away from me, ok? And I won’t nuzzle your leg, nor eliminate near you as you eat, nor emit 85-decibel sounds within 10 yards of you. Fair enough?

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Coda: That dog on AA 1284 to Miami, who was met at the gate by an American Airlines manager quizzing its owner about its service-dog papers . . . soon as it got onto the carpeted concourse took a dump. These service dogs today, eh?

^{Photo by Cole May}