The Inner Monologue of a Dog in East Hampton Who Misses Playing Fetch at the Beach

Woke up this morning and had a nice stretch, dogged down some breakfast and then started to read the news, only to find out that it is now illegal for me to run free on the beach at all hours of the day. No wonder my owner was angry this morning. At first I thought it was the stock market crashing but this week’s issue of DOG‘S LIFE says that for the most part, owners are happy as of late.

No dogs at the beach off leashes 24 hours a day in East Hampton? What is this? Nazi Germany? Here I am following all the damn rules while these freaking deer crap everywhere and nobody says anything!

If only I had been born a deer or a piping plover. They get to run free all they want. I’m a persecuted animal these days. I’m ashamed of myself. I have no purpose in life if I can’t chase that tennis ball at the beach. I have to do it. Do they not understand that? It’s who I am. Without that, I’m nothing. I’m just nothing.

Who am I?

If only my owner was a local authority in East Hampton who can get their tickets dismissed, I’d still be able to chase the hell out of that tennis ball on the beach after six o’clock. If only people understood that, if I just retrieve that tennis ball enough times, every question that humanity has ever asked will be answered. I just need to get it one more time and bring it back and everything can be solved. Don’t they realize that?

If only I could get my hands on some of that leftover bacon that is sitting in the microwave…hmmm…bacon…

Wait!…stop thinking about food for one second Bingo and get your head on straight. Have some priorities.

Look at that tennis ball. Mocking me. He knows that the only places he’ll be thrown is in the back yard. And what kind of a game is that? Where’s the challenge? Where’s the glory?

If only I had been born a seagull. I could go through garbage and take craps on people and they would say, “That’s good luck.” Nobody says that I’m good luck anymore. I’m washed up. I’m a nobody. I might as well just sit here and mope about the house and get fat and fart and growl at the television whenever the Discovery Channel gets turned on.

I never thought I’d ever say this, but I envy the cat. I wish I could hate the water as much as he does. That bastard. Where is he? Anywhere? Yea that’s right…he better be hiding.

AM I JUST SUPPOSED TO DO NOTHING ABOUT THIS RULE? If you prick me, do I not bleed? if you tickle me, does my leg not kick repeatedly?!?! Do these local politicians who made this leash law at the beach at all hours of the day have any sense of what it means to be a dog living in America today? Where are my rights? Why do deer have more damn rights than me? I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! I HAVE TO CHASE THAT GOD DAMN BALL AT THE BEACH! Why won’t any of the masters go to the town and SAY SOMETHING!!! COMPLAIN LIKE THE OTHER DOG RACISTS COMPLAIN!

Those Goddamn deer. They crap everywhere, nobody cares. But I take one little crap in public and everybody loses their minds. My master always cleans it up. Most others do. Why can’t they just give tickets to the non crapper picker uppers? Why must we all suffer? Why make me a criminal on four legs?