I stopped at a diner in Somewhere, Montana for the sole purpose of eating a slice of huckleberry pie.   I have always wanted to try it because it is one of those foods that sounds fictional.

I sat at the counter.  Service in the diner was slow, but I wasn’t in a hurry.  However, it did seem to cause some distress for the fellow seated two stools down who had been waiting for his check.

Sensing a brotherhood-like bond with me, and that we were somehow “in this together” based on the idea that we were both “counter people” He initiated conversation by turning to me and saying, “Man, I wish the waitress would hurry – I’ve gotta take a shit like nobody’s business.”

I replied, “I don’t want to alarm you but, that actually already is nobody’s business each and every time you have to do it.  You could have kept that to yourself and I would not have felt you were holding out on me.”

The waitress brought the man’s credit card and receipt, he scrawled his signature and bolted from the eating area.

The pie was good.

That morning, I had crossed from Washington, through the Idaho panhandle and into the land of the Big Sky…

Along this route I had stopped for gas. While fueling I met a stray dog.  I didn’t know there were any left in America.

He is an ugly little fucker. But, even still, I gave him one of the doggy treats I keep in the side pouch of my door for just such an emergency.

He was skittish, but scrappy. Eventually, he took the chunk of meat and ran from my sight to enjoy it. Soon, he darted back and peed on my tire, like a hobo marking a house that gives a free meal.

This is a big country. And, no stray dogs to speak of. I wish we had channeled that energy into rounding up mosquitoes instead.  But, people are weird when it comes to pet-like animals. You included.  And, I’m not just talking about you lunatics who take them on vacation, or shopping, or even you, personally…YOU incorrigible bastards that drive with them on your laps.

We as a society have lost the ability to call each other out on outrageous behavior.  I’m speaking about the use of service animals.  Back in the day, that meant an extremely well-trained dog that assisted blind people. See, that is actually a good thing. Now, unscrupulous MFs have taken advantage of this little loophole in the rules of civilized society in which there is a restriction on dogs.

Some assholes claim they and their furry little mop of germ-ridden stink are exempt because having their dog with them relieves their anxiety.  Their presence increases my own anxiety, but I don’t matter in their world.

Nevermind that folks with that level of anxiety should not leave the house, the real truth is that it is bullshit.  Sometimes a prescription should read (and, I’m not just saying this because I am in Montana): Cowboy the fuck up.

Instead we coddle the weaklings and encourage their weakling behavior.

I am aware that there are people who have endured great trauma and suffer from PTSD and can resume some semblance of a normal life through the assistance of a professional, non-human companion.  But, more common are the fuckers who usurp their suffering and use it as an excuse to bring their pekingese into a smoke-filled casino while they play the slots. That is who I am bitching about.

I don’t hate animals, but it has taken a lot of work and training to keep myself from going to the bathroom on the living room floor. I am not up to the task of attempting to domesticate another.

Look, I know I have offended all of you. But, that’s ok because, fuck you.  I am aware that I am the last animal non-lover left.  Hell, if this was a different time, even my own lovely Trixie would have been institutionalized for her unnatural fondness for those idiot cats of hers…especially Binx. He’s awful. He hasn’t a single socially redeeming quality. If he was a movie he would be rated NC-17 and people would still walk out.

But, even you folks, twisted though you might be, have noticed that there is something about folks who like pit bulls that is a tad off. Right? You can’t put your finger on it, but, the way their eyes get big and they grin malevolently when they start talking about how they are the sweetest, most loving creatures on God’s green earth and are always genuinely shocked when one mauls a toddler. They then go on to blame the owner.  You see that crazy in these folks.

Well, that is how we (me) animal non-lovers see the rest of you. No offense.