|
|
 |
|
DOG DAYS |
 "No, Cujo, you been good boy this year. Not have to go summer camp at Michael Vick's place after all." |
You don't have to love dogs
to take sides against Vick
of TheColumnists.com
People think the
world is divided by religion, nationality, culture, race or economic
position. Fuhhggetaboutit.
I divide the world into dog lovers and just lovers.
When I was a kid growing up in the streets of Brooklyn we never
had a dog in our small apartment. Neither my older brother, myself
nor my parents wanted to get up early or stay up late to walk
a dog in the snowy winter streets.
When I had my own family, my wife Janet always yearned for a
dog. Her family had dogs. I heard more tales than I wanted about
Brownie when Janet was a child or Bago (from Lake Sebago in Maine)
when she was a young adult.
Then we had Maggie around our house when the kids were little.
Maggie had this habit of eating up all the newspapers I left
on the floor. After all, I was a newspaper man. That was my job.
We put up with Maggie for a few months in the spring and summer
one year. Then came the winter winds and the deep snows. No one
wanted to walk Maggie. I used the weather as an excuse to ship
Maggie back to her kennel. It was really the newspapers. I am
sure Maggie has lived a long, wonderful life in a country home
with an endless backyard.
A few more dogs made it into the house when the kids moaned and
I gave in. They stayed for weeks or months on occasion until
one thing or another would force my hand, constant barking, a
nip here and there, a spilled water bowl, sickness or a chewed
up sandal.
I only had one bad dog experience that stayed with me. Janet
and I sat on a Maine beach one year near her parents’ summer
home. The sky was picture blue and the lake was clear and glassy.
We talked of maybe buying a place near there and spending our
summers gliding along that lake under the pleasant Maine skies.
Then a huge dog, on its run after being out on a boat with its
owner, was at my throat.
Talk about being scared witless.
“Just don’t move,’ said dog fancier Janet.
“Right,” I mumbled.
It was a minute or two--I thought it was six hours--before the
owner tied up his boat, called out “Skip,” and the
killer dog moved from his prey.
I give lots of latitude to pit bulls that I see, St. Bernards,
boxers, mastiffs and, well, any dog moving near me. Am I afraid
of them? Let’s just say that I’m considerate of them.
Now it comes to the Michael Vick story. The famous football player
has blown a hundred million dollar football career to “sponsor”
dog fights in his Atlanta home. The dogs are trained to bite
each other’s heads off. The ones that don’t are executed.
Do I believe in capital punishment? I do. That’s another
story for another day.
This ugly scene isn’t really about dogs. It’s about
gambling. Few of Vick’s pals would show up just for the
sport of watching a dog bite off the face of another dog. But
if you pick a dog, root like hell for him and win a few bucks
in the confusion then the activity seems worth it to these people.
No one has mentioned whether Vick had a little terrier in his
front porch or a Scottie in his back yard. No one really knows
what his attitude about dogs really is. We’ll have to wait
for his book, “If I really sponsored these dog fights this
is how I would have done it.”
Stephon Marbury, the best player on the worst team in New York,
the NBA basketball Knicks, defended Vick by saying “people
shoot deer” and nobody seems to care. Marbury suggested
Vick deserved another chance. For what?
I am against guns and I am against gun users whether they shoot
dogs, deer, rabbits or back yard cans on fences.
Vick’s conduct is just another indication of the boredom
athletes battle. Their energies are in their games and when the
game is over or the season has ended, they don’t read books,
work in the ghettos to motivate kids or travel across Africa
to build housing. They look for substitute thrills.
One of these thrills for this one player seemed to be the death-to-the-end
dog fights. These deadly dog fights are apparently not unique
and not confined to millionaire athletes. They take place among
poor people as well in the back yards of trailer parks or broken
down farm houses.
I am not a dog guy but I was made pretty sick by the Vick story.
I may not want one in my house but it doesn’t bother me
if you have one in your house. Just treat it as a family member.
Oh, one other thing I want to make clear about dogs. I’m
a militant pooper scooper guy and if I catch you walking down
the street without your shovel and your paper bag, the cops will
know about it.
©2007 by Maury Allen. The Maury Allen caricature is ©2001 by Jim Hummel. The illustration is from IMSI's Master Clips Collection, 1895 Francisco Blvd. E., San Rafael, CA, 94901-5506, USA. This column first posted Sept. 3, 2007.
You can comment on this column online. Please address your message to either "The Editors" or Maury Allen. To send an email, click here and don't forget to mention Maury's name: talkback@thecolumnists.com
|
|
|
Archives |
|
|