It’s A Dog’s Life

To the Editor:

Ever since we moved to Newtown life has been difficult for me. My old haunt allowed me a lifestyle that I now only dream of, which I find myself doing a lot of lately, dreaming that is, of those doggone days of old. You see, where I used to live people were nice to me. I remember once I bit the leg of the postman and you know what he did? Threw me a biscuit by golly. Here, if I give chase to a silly jogger or a bicyclist they get angry, and I get punished. A perfect example of what I’m saying is that where I used to live I would place my calling cards wherever I deemed appropriate, and that was okay, we all did it. Heck, if I thought about it, I damn near owned half that town. Well, are things different in Newtown or what! Just the other day I was in mid deposit and this guy comes out of the house yelling things at me, bad things, and throwing stuff at me. I can take a hint. And that’s not the first time either, it seems everyone here has a problem with that particular habit of mine.

I think my owner is having problems as well, once I heard him talking to a guy named George, my owner was getting me out of jail at the time, and he was saying that the people down here just don’t want to get along, not friendly, neighbors don’t talk to each other, might as well live in the big city he said. George told him he liked it just find here, said he wouldn’t live anywhere else. People are slow to warm here, he said, but they’re good people, they mind their own business, but if you need help they’re there for you. Then he said something that really stung, “Maybe if you didn’t let your dog run all over the place chasing people and crapping on their lawns you might find it a bit more of a friendly place.” That really hurt, I’m out of here.

James Swift

Cedarhurst Trail, Sandy Hook                                     August 15, 2001