The Mongrel Scour 2018 – by Auggie

Jul 1, 2018

Salutations, Lackeys. Your rewards are forthcoming and wondrous.

Every year the Bipeds “do” this thing called the Mutt Scrub. The cutesy name is designed to elicit heartwarming images of faithful canines being lovingly washed by ever-adoring owners. Nothing could be farther from the truth. The Mutt Scrub (Or as I call it, “The Mongel Scour”) is a shoddily-constructed morass of self-promotion, full of sub-par management and pathetic, dispirited pleas for money. The only thing that makes this buffoonery tolerable is that the Bipeds conduct it to raise money for the Lincoln County Animal Shelter. The entire vagary is such a shame because the animal shelter really needs the help. And it is such a yearly disappointment that the Opposable Thumbs can’t rise to the occasion more than their considerable handicaps allow.

For those of you not in the know, The Mutt Scrub is an annual event the Bipeds stage on the last Saturday of every July to assuage their guilty consciences regarding animals at the shelter. The event is an amalgam of loosely-defined, mundane, farcical competitions and frantically-constructed wash stations, nail trimmings, and raffle prizes intermingled with a lot of frenzied barking.

I shall now excite your nerve cells to such an incomprehensibly thrilling level that most of you will need hospitalization. Especially for those of you half-wits who read this blog regularly.

“Doggie” Musical Chairs
Buddy came in third in this competition. Not because he’s a whip-smart, well-oiled machine, but because he is an old, tired dog and all he wants to do is sit down. He’s so dumb I’m not even sure he knew he was in a competition. I, on the other hand, am a thinking dog. That puts me at a disadvantage, and as such, have never advanced beyond the most basic rounds. It would be like Albert Einstein competing in a hayseed radio sports quiz show for tickets to a local tractor pull.

How, exactly, is “Doggie” Musical Chairs played you ask? I’m sure you Bipeds out there had the game foisted upon you when you were mere whelps. The premise remains the same. When the music stops, the competitors sit. The last dog to sit is eliminated until the first dog sitting in the last round wins. Do you see how Buddy almost won this competition?

And don’t get your muzzle all frothy about glorious prizes. The first prize is usually something lackluster like a bunch of animal parts like lungs or tracheas that the Bipeds have had trouble selling.

If you couldn’t tell by my endless uses of quotes, I hate the word “Doggie.” You should, too.

Talent Show
The Late Great Coal won this talent show. How? He howled at ambulance sirens played through a cellphone. That’s how easy it is to win this thing. Some people think it’s even appropriate to have their dogs win the contest by sitting on command. Just a little note: if you try to win the Talent Show by having your dog sit, I will bite you. Then Don will most definitely bite you. That’s for the Musical Chairs competition, people. Please rise to the occasion and not embarrass yourself like so many other simpletons have throughout the years.

That being said, the truth is that your dog can do basically anything but poop on the lawn and win this contest. Scratch that. A dog pooping on cue would command the everlasting love of all Bipeds everywhere and win the Talent Show hands down.

Regardless, former winners have danced for treats, rolled over, played dead, or have just been cute. Of course, the Mutt Scrub doesn’t have room to sufficiently demonstrate my Supreme Fetchdog Prowess. There is a tight ring of gawking poltroons around the lawn and they might be severely hurt by my talents. If all you Knuckle-Scrapers out there write angry letters to the Bipeds, perhaps they will move their venue to a distant field like Zak Preserve where my fetching can enthrall everyone.

Failing that, can we at least get a dog that has a modicum of talent to win this year’s accursed competition?

I loathe the sound of the word “raffle.” Much like the word “crop” or “moist” the word grates on every fibre of my being. However, this is possibly the best thing about the entire Mutt Scrub. There is something for everydog and for a beggarly sum, you could earn your way to riches. A $2 donation could get you 10 nights of boarding at The Coastal Dog, or a Private Tasting at Eventide Epicurean Specialties. Failing that, your ticket could garner you a gift certificate to one of the Boothbay Region’s great restaurants like Robinsons WharfNewcastle Publick House (No, that’s not a misspelling, you Jugheads), The Boathouse BistroHarborside Tavern…. and the list goes on and on. Peruse the entire list of “raffle” prizes here.

As a word of caution, I should inform you that the Mutt Scrub raffles may only earn you tears, heartbreak, and a lifetime of destitute gambling if you become addicted. The rush of winning a bandanna that essentially everyone receives for attending is too much for some people, apparently. You were warned.

Other Things to Tingle the Senses
-Nail Trimming – Will somebody please donate to trim Buddy’s nails? My Dog they are long and extremely loud on hardwood floors. The Bipeds are thoroughly oblivious.

-Dog Washing – Every year we get a slough of men asking the young ladies if THEY can get washed, too. It’s predictable. It’s been done. It’s not funny. You should be ashamed. Need I go on?

-Donate – Or just donate and be done with all the stupid whimsical claptrap. The Bipeds will match anything you give through that foolish Poncho Villa Page they set up. That is what a cultured dog would do. That is what a cultured Biped should do.

I remain,

Augustus M.B. Kingsbury

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