I'll Mature When I'm Dead (9 page)

The more ecological alternative would be to introduce some kind of predator that would counteract the pythons. The question is, what kind of creature would be able to hold its own against these monstrous snakes? The obvious answer, which I’m sure has already occurred to you, is: New Yorkers. You’d take a batch of them out to the dead center of the Everglades and release them, and they’d immediately start complaining, loudly, about how there was no decent pizza out there, and how if New York had a vast trackless swamp, it would be WAY better than the Everglades, and so on. Pretty soon the pythons would get tired of this, and leave. Or, eat the New Yorkers. Either way is fine with me.

So to summarize your tips for visiting Miami:

Other than these basic safety precautions, my only advice is: Have fun! Because Miami really is a fun town, once you adjust to it. I moved here in 1986 from the United States, and I’ve come to love it. In fact, if you visit, you might find yourself in my “neck of the woods.” You might even see me outside, picking up my newspaper!

If so, duck.

Becoming a first-time dog-owner is a big step. It’s like getting married, except that your new spouse will want to have sex with you, whereas your new dog will want to have sex with you
and
your furniture.

But make no mistake: When you get a dog, you’re entering into a serious long-term relationship. A dog is a companion that, if you feed it and pet it and pretend that you sincerely want to take away its ball, will give you, in return, totally unqualified love. You could be Charles Manson, or Hitler, or even a lawyer who advertises on television, and your dog will still think you’re the greatest thing ever. This tells you something very important about dogs:
They are not very bright
.

This is actually good. The last thing you want is a smart dog. My friends Buzz and Libby Burger once had a smart dog, and it was a nightmare. She was an Afghan hound named Doodle, and she did not care to take orders or be in any way confined. This was a problem because not only was she more intelligent than anybody in reality television, but she was also capable of land speeds in excess of three hundred miles per hour. If Libby and Buzz wanted to go out for dinner at 7 P.M., they had to start at 3 P.M. attempting to lure Doodle into the house using elaborate charades involving treats, fake departures, disguises, professional actors, computers, helicopters, holograms, live chickens, etc. Doodle would watch these goings-on, clearly amused, until Buzz or Libby had crept within one step of being close enough to grab her, then
whoosh
she’d dematerialize, Wile-E.-Coyote style, leaving Buzz or Libby grasping a cloud of Doodle-shaped dust as Doodle herself disappeared into the woods to manage her global hedge fund or whatever the hell she did in there.

That’s not the kind of dog you want. You want a dog that will run headfirst at full speed into a wall chasing a ball that you have only pretended to throw. You want a dog that will do this ten consecutive times, and still, on your eleventh fake throw, launch itself at the wall with undiminished enthusiasm. You want a dog that considers you brilliant because of all the amazing things you can do, such as open a door; a dog that worships you as a treat-dispensing god; a dog that, when you have an intestinal flu and reek like a Hong Kong dumpster because you have not showered or changed pajamas or brushed your teeth in four days, and you are crouched in the bathroom spewing random fluids and semi-solids from every orifice you possess, your dog is right there next to you, wagging its tail and licking you and just generally doing everything it can to communicate the message: “Wow! You have
never smelled more interesting
!”

Smell is very important to dogs. They have extremely sensitive noses, and they use their sense of smell to gather and process important information about the world around them, as follows:

“Hey! A smell!” “Hey! Another smell!” “Hey! ANOTHER smell!” etc. You’d think that, at some point, the dog would grasp the fact that there are a lot of smells in the world, and move on. But that’s because you don’t have a dog yet.

This is a complex question, and you need to consider many factors before you arrive at the correct answer, which is: A big dog.

What do I mean by “a big dog”? I mean “a dog that can knock over a standard-sized elderly woman it has never seen before because it is so happy to meet her.” You do not want one of those yappy gerbil-sized dogs that travel as carry-on luggage and are always nervous because at any moment they could be eaten by grasshoppers. These are unhappy, angry dogs, because they know in their tiny gerbil hearts that everybody except their immediate owners hates them.

The sole advantage of small dogs is that they are portable. My wife and I once attended a New Year’s Eve party at a swank private club on South Beach, and as we entered we saw a woman in a pretty much nonexistent dress carrying a small dog
in the cleavage of her breasts
, which I suspect were artificial inasmuch as any given one of them was the size of a Toyota Camry. The dog was a Yorkshire terrier, although this particular woman had enough capacity for a mature Rottweiler. You would think that a cleavage-dwelling dog would be happy, but this one was just as neurotic as any other small dog. I know, because I observed it closely until my wife made me stop.

But unless you have reason to transport your dog in your bazoomage, you want a large dog. You should get it at a rescue shelter, where it has been sitting around building up a huge throbbing storehouse of love, which it will lavish on you in a lifelong outpouring of affection, loyalty, and—above all—drool.

Dogs are descended from wolf-like animals that roamed in packs millions of years ago, when most of North America was covered by thick virgin forest, which is gone now because the dogs chewed it into spit-covered splinters. Modern dogs have retained this powerful chewing instinct, and will spend countless hours chewing on random objects. It’s basically their hobby, kind of like Sudoku, only not as pointless.

So before you introduce your new dog to your home, you need to remove all chewable objects, including shoes, clothing, rugs, draperies, chairs, sofas, slow-moving children, and anything that has a plug. In fact it might be a good idea, before introducing the dog to your home, to introduce it, late at night, to somebody
else’s
home; you can visit it there until it gets over the chewing phase, which typically lasts until about fifteen minutes before the dog’s death.

If you’re feeling crazy and decide to bring the dog into your own personal home, you need to learn:

You should start with house-training, which is important because dogs will try to “mark” your house as their territory by urinating on it, much as members of Congress put their names on buildings that taxpayers have paid for.

The key to successful house-training is to
lead by example
. Wait until your dog is watching you, then declare, in a calm yet authoritative voice: “Time to drain the lizard!” Immediately stride outside, urinate on your lawn, and reward yourself with a treat. Repeat these steps until the dog grasps the concept or you run out of beer.

Other useful commands to teach your dog are “stay,” “heel,” “remove your snout from that person’s groin,” “stop humping the Barcalounger,” “do not bark violently for two straight hours at inanimate objects such as a flowerpot,” “do not eat poop,” and “if you must eat poop, then at least refrain from licking my face afterward.”

To teach these commands to your dog, you need three things: (1) patience; (2) consistency; and (3) a dog from another planet. Earth-based dogs, at least in my experience, lack the requisite number of brain cells to learn them. The only trick I’ve ever been able to teach any of my dogs is “shake hands,” which is not particularly useful. If Lassie were one of my dogs, when little Timmy got trapped in the quicksand and shouted, “Go get help, girl!,” Lassie would sit at the edge of the quicksand pit and give Timmy high fives on the top of his head with her paw until he disappeared beneath the muck. Then, her work done, she’d trot briskly away, on the alert for her next mission. (“Hey! A smell!”)

What kind of dog food is best for your dog? Many dog owners have strong views on this subject, which is one way you can tell they are insane. The best food for your dog is: brown dog food. Oh, sure, you’ll see TV ads claiming that a certain brand is superior, as evidenced by the fact that the dog in the commercial is enthusiastically chowing down on it. But what these ads fail to tell you is that the same dog would chow down, with equal enthusiasm, on any other brand of dog food, or any brand of cat food, or an actual cat, or a pair of soiled underpants, or the Declaration of Independence, or a clarinet.

Dogs did not get where they are today by being picky eaters. Back in prehistoric times, they were competing with the rest of their pack for food, and if they came across, say, the decaying carcass of a mastodon, they had to snatch whatever piece they could, because if they didn’t, some other dog would. They’d swallow the piece quickly, and then, if it didn’t agree with them, they’d simply throw it back up later, and some other dog would eat it. Or maybe the same dog would eat it again, because, as we have established, dogs are not the nuclear physicists of the animal kingdom. In this manner a pack of dogs could transport a single rancid mastodon rectum thousands of miles.

In modern times dogs still operate on the principle that you should eat first and worry later about whether what you ate was edible. My current dog, Lucy, eats, among many other things, photo albums. The first time she did this, we told her she was Bad, which made her feel very sorry and press herself into the floor like a big hairy remorseful worm. But a few days later she ate
another
photo album. Again she felt terribly guilty, but she obviously believed, in what passes for her mind, that she had no choice, because if
she
didn’t eat the album, another dog might, and that was a chance she simply could not afford to take.

Don’t be an idiot.

It’s important to play with your dog, because otherwise it will become bored and develop an OxyContin habit. Here are some good games for you and your dog:

Fetch:
Show the dog a ball, then throw it. The dog will run after it and pick it up. Now try to get the dog to bring it back. Ha-ha! Be prepared for hours of rollicking fun.

Keep Away:
Your dog will have at least one object that it considers to be highly desirable, such as a filthy saliva-drenched chew toy or the femur of a UPS driver. Wait until the dog is chewing on this object, then sneak up and, with a swift but authoritative motion, snatch the object away, hold it up in front of the dog, and say, “This is
mine
, do you understand? MINE!!” Your dog will become agitated and try to get the object back, but you must never give it back, ever. You must take it to your
grave
, or the dog will win.

Chess:
This is another game where you should be able to establish your dominance. Do not let the dog go first.

See “Brushing Your Dog’s Teeth.”

As we have seen, dog ownership is really just a matter of common sense. If you follow the procedures described in this article, your dog will reward you with a lifetime of love and loyalty in the form of lying on the floor right next to you silently emitting nuclear farts.

Another way to go is tropical fish.