Munich is a great place to be a dog; I can see that.
But, since I’m a human I don’t feel that it’s appropriate for me to write about it so I’m turning this blog post over to Kaiser, a dog acquaintance of mine. Here's Kaiser.
First of all, before I get all my US canine family too
excited about life in Munich, I feel I should straight with you: You must be a
good dog to enjoy life in Munich. If you are a good dog, life doesn’t get any
better.
To begin with there’s this park they call the English
Garden. It’s huge! And the trees! Oh, I could cry, but bulldogs don’t cry.
There are trees that you can get lost behind. Trees that will take you several
seconds to run around. Oh, I can read your little minds. You’re worried about
the leash with these enormous trees. Well, are you sitting? Sit! Good dog. There are no leashes! That’s right. Your
master read that correctly to you: you do not have to wear a leash in the
English Garden. You do not have to wear a leash in Munich – as long as you are
a good dog. Leash free life is the best. There are fields in the English Garden
that will take you minutes to run across. That’s how big it is. And the smells!
There are Biergartens everywhere so there’s always something spilled as well as
the, um, evidence of other doggy visitors. There are broken limbs everywhere so
there’s always a good stick to carry and chase.
The other dogs are so fun-loving and friendly, nary a
bully among them – if you’ll pardon the expression. They’re all up for a good
romp, a roll in the grass, a good game of chase or a walk or swim in the river.
Stay out of the lake; those geese are mighty territorial. Funny story. I’m
being chased by this beagle. She’s gaining on me. (They all gain on me, except
the pugs.) I hear this strange whistle when I think I have her licked until I
realized she wasn’t there anymore. The whistle was her mistress. My heart broke
a little that day, but you get over it. There’s always another cute beagle.
Another great perk about living in Munich is you get to
go into restaurants and stores. No more being tied to the lamppost and waiting
for who knows how long. You get to be right in the action. You think the
restaurants smell good from the outside? Try sitting under one of the chairs
inside! Oh, boy! Yeah, yeah it’s a bit torturous, but they have to drop
something some time and who’s there to run clean up? That’s right! Yours truly.
I tell you, you really feel like a mature dog with no
leash. I get to cross the street all by myself. Every once in a while I see a
tourist on a leash and I think, “Poor sot.” Yeah, you can always spot the
tourists, can’t you? Often they’re wearing some stupid sweater their lame
masters have forced on them. What the hell do they think our fur is for, for cryin’ in the beer? They’re
also the ones whose masters are always shouting, “No! Bad dog! Stop that. Come
here. Here! Here!” I saw one dog trying to eat something he’d found. His
master’s hand was practically down his throat trying to retrieve whatever it
was while a second dog sat and whined. I didn’t laugh until I was out of
earshot. You gotta be polite. I just try to set the good example. You know, let
them see what freedoms they can have if they’ll only control themselves a
little.
Whistle!
Oh! That’s for me. Gotta go.
I watch Kaiser waddle off. I’m watching his pudgy little
haunches bounce up and down and I can’t help but think, “I hope I don’t look
like that when I’m walking away.” Sigh.
