Dog Eat Dog World
Upstater Magazine Spring 2017 | By Peter Martin
Hello treatgiver,
this is your dog speaking. An important matter has come to my attention and it’s time that we discussed it. Nancy Paw-losi, a close friend and associate at the office (or as you refer to it, “doggy day care”), recently returned from a fact-finding mission from “UPSTATE.” There, she says, the walks are endless, the baths are infrequent, and the open air is just the other side of a porch door. All the rawhide is freshly cured, and spritely squirrels offer sport unmatched by their urban cousins. The belly rub quotient increases 200% in aggregate from friendly strangers; the numbers prove it. For too long we’ve languished while the wag-gap is at an all-time high. Snarls Schumer hears talk of a resort called a “FARM” where they fly in ducks to chase and giant-dog friends with black-and-white spots roam the endless fields. Some “FARMS” even smell like bacon (BACON!) all the time (ALL THE TIME?!). But I digress. As your trusted confidant, I’ve got to consider what’s best for both us. It’s not fair that those fat cats (I hate cats) upstate reap all the rewards. So let’s not deliberate. Grab your keys—I hid them under the couch—and let’s head upstate.
Sincerely,
U.S. Senator Bernese Sanders
Illustrations by Jason Cring
