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Show xChewie' lives in o xscuzzy' neighborhood By the age of puberty, all of us know the meaning of man's best friend. Utahns get downright maudlin when it comes to their dogs, an indication perhaps that Lassie reruns are still broadcast on cable TV. J I Cyclops I ' ' by Brian p i. 'i G'y Utahns view dog-haters as despicable people, either gruff like W.C Fields ("Any man that hates dogs or children can't be all bad') or ill-mannered like William Randolph Ran-dolph Hearst ("Get those dog cartoons car-toons off the front page; I wouldn't let a dog pee on even my cheapest rug). Dogs are part of our literary heritage (Lad) and our time-honored time-honored television tradition (Rin Tin Tin), and are considered cuddly, cudd-ly, noble and loyaL.The perfect companion. But in reality, some dog owners place a different value on their pet. Last week, for instance, a northern Utah man complained to his city's officials that they didn't understand his dog. The dog is named Chewie, a fitting fit-ting label since the mixed-breed hound enjoys chewing the man's stereo speaker wires. The man was not upset by Chewie's voracious appetite; in fact, he rather encouraged en-couraged it since a mutt brandishing its teeth is infinitely more scary than one who lolls around and laps up milk. The man likes his dog to baric and growl.. .The dog earns extra biscuits whenever it frightens people. 4I live in a scuzzy neighborhood," the man told a newspaper reporter. "And that's why I have a dog." I don't know how his neighbors reacted to that comment-but I do know how the city officials responded. Chewie, they say, has "engaged in chasing or approaching in menacing menac-ing fashion in apparent attitudes of attack." Chewie, they continue, is "extremely aggressive with animal control officers." Chewie, they note, doesn't just bark at peoplehe chases them with teeth bared. So city officials have alerted the owner that he must conform to the dangerous dog ordinance. He must pay an extra $50 to have him licensed.. .He must have Chewie neutered.. .He must build a dog run on his property.. .He must keep Chewie muzzled and leashed when off the property.. .He must post a warning that a vicious dog is present pre-sent in the neighborhood... And, much to the owner's consternation, con-sternation, he must have a Social Security number (the owner's, not Chewie's) tatooed on one of the dog's four legs. "This city is really a messed up place, says the owner. Presumably, Chewie feels the same way-although it's hard to decipher his statement when he's wearing a muzzle. "My dog may bark at people, but that's what I need him for, that's what I want him to do," says the owner. And apparently he's trained the dog to act like Big Bad LeRoy Brown. The owner doesn't believe in any of his hokum about petting M the dog by the fireside. "My two-year-old kid just abuses Chewie to death," beams the man. Chewie is a 1990s dog. There's nothing wrong with a little kid abusing abus-ing him as long as the dog snaps at passers-by. The '90s dog is meant for protection, not as a friend. Chewie has been raised for a purpose: pur-pose: like the drunken brother-in-law, he's good for keeping people away from the house. Chewie's purpose in life says a lot about our society and its drift from traditional family values. The owner also says quite a bit about why animal control officers spend much of their off-duty hours buying antacids by the caseload. But maybe we shouldn't be so hard on the guy. After all, Chewie probably eats better than the tykes in Bangladesh, and there's no record of Chewie applying for relief from the Department of Social Services. Ser-vices. In fact, Chewie is perfectly happy. He's not aware that he resides in a scuzzy neighborhood.. .And he doesn't realize real-ize that his owner has a screw loose. |
