I’m back! Again. You thought I was hiding out somewhere from Herr Trump and the New Order (Neuordnung) and had deserted you in your hour of need. Not so. Got a cold and the shingles at the same time. Not recommended for the living... and those who wish to go on with it.
Accept my apology for not covering President Elect Trump’s first press conference for you Wednesday last; I bailed on it early with the hope I could take an incomplete, pleading the above illnesses as an excuse, when it was really my state of mind that was hurting. Every time I see our reichsleiter-to-be on TV I feel as though his angry eyes and fulminations are directed directly at me for stumbling into his alternate universe, and he means to persecute me for my faith (in science).
So what did I do? What you should do. I changed channels. To?
Dog TV, my usual refuge in trying times. For those of you who know it not, I give it five stars in stress relief. Yes, as you rightly guessed, I first subscribed to it for my two dogs, thinking they would enjoy having kindred company when I left them home alone. Not to be. They just didn’t dig it, and went back to reading The New Yorker for their escapes. I think Gypsy looked up once while I held her and forced to view another Golden Retriever on the tube; not interested. As for high-strung Heidi, true to her shepherd genes, she cannot be forced to look at anything when on the trail of imaginary possums. And that’s almost always.
Talk about balms to hurt minds. Dog TV delivers comfort and solace, a quiet joy along with a sense of what is right in nature. The background barking is simple, pleasant, unobtrusive—and when a human voice intrudes, it is brief and muted. And added plus for me is that some of the scenic footage was shot at my very own Dog Beach here in Surf City. How do I know? Because when I watch those pups splashing joyfully in the waves, I see in the background the familiar oil-drilling platforms in stubborn place.
As for our unaware canine friends, photographed mostly in the outdoors and free to be their antic selves, they run and roll at will, yip and woof without restraint, wag tails and sniff out all identities in soothing harmony. Such a melodious melee! It makes you want to pile right into the frolic and forget the millions of folks about to lose their Obamacare.
The cost for Dog TV? A measly five bucks a month. Am I your best friend or not? (By the way, this is Divertimento Number One in a series from my Caligula Suite, composed to get you through the Reign of Trump. More to follow.)
Here are three happy subscribers to Dog TV,
With Heidi, left; Gypsy, right; I’m in the middle.
(We are real dogs and people, not paid actors.)