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Jan 1, 2023
Editor’s Note: The opinions, descriptions, ratings, characterizations, insults, malapropisms, and vituperations are the sole province of Augustus Megatron Bulldozer Kingsbury- a dog. Two Salty Dogs Pet Outfitters cannot take responsibility for this atrocity.
I’ve been held captive in this pathetic appendix of a town for longer than I care to admit. I am described as morose by such locals what fail to understand my suffering is derived from their moppishness and simpleness. Yet, I cannot fault them for such, as any criticism of the fools would be akin to slapping a newborn babe for soiling itself.
Notwithstanding, I shall expose these fools and their lack of substantial dog treats in this suspect town. I therefore submit this deconstruction regarding the freely-given treats of the local merchants.
No doubt this document shall generate a fair amount of toxic exhaust from the rear ends of these merchants. Let the pieces fall where they may. I am Augustus Megatron Bulldozer Kingsbury – purveyor of truth in this shabby land. I shan’t be held hostage by mere moppets and their soggy, undignified wonts.
Scrutinized establishments were evaluated on six points:
1) Quality of treats (0-12)
2) Quantity of treats per visit (0-12)
3) Ease with which treats were given: (0-12)
4) Glowing Admiration Shown unto me: (0-12)
5) Proper Rubbing/physical treatment: (0-12)
6) Frequency Don brings us there: (0-12)
The more intelligent of you will understand the Total Rating has a maximum score of seventy points and a minimum of zero. I know you Bipeds get all tingly about the metric system, but I don’t care. The metric system is for apes. I am a proud dog.
Once you settle down, I shall begin in earnest. Furthermore, Earnest is an excellent dog name, if you are looking for one.
BOOTHBAY ANIMAL HOSPITAL
The treats here are bountiful, yet they lack any seasoning or satisfying texture. Typical Milk Bone gruel. It is quite like eating solidified pancake batter hardened in a lukewarm sun on a humid day. And it usually comes with the price of having your anal glands expressed by some Biped more disgusted than you at the situation.
1) Quality of Treats: 1
2) Quantity of Treats per Visit: 8
3) Ease With Which Treats Are Given: 5
4) Glowing Admiration Shown Unto Me: 4
5) Proper Rubbing/Physical Treatment: 3
6) Frequency Don Brings Me There: 2
Total Score: 23
BRADY’S RESTAURANT
I have heard grand things about Brady’s restaurant from local dogs.
Incessantly.
And apparently, these grand things are reserved for those dogs with respectful Bipeds.
Unfortunately, I have Don.
You would think a restaurant named after a dog, subsequently named after a famous local American football quarterback would have plenty of servers and yeomen to ply honorable dogs such as myself with treats and attention. Nothing could be further from the truth. The best I could do at this place was scrounge floor crumbs like a wild beast.
A caked water bowl with the foulness of a thousand diseased canines was thrust upon me at the behest of Don. I was impressed, considering Don had been drinking historically for hours on end and typically forgets I’m with him in such situations.
It appeared as if the other dogs in this establishment were enjoying a plenitude of treats. Yet I was sadly bereft. If Don had not drunkenly dropped a succulent bit from his plate to me, I should have rated this establishment a naught. Not one Biped gave me so much as a mild butt-rub, although I did receive a “Noogie” from a quite brewed-up fisherman. It was then I noticed some tiny, stuck-up bitch (Correct Use of the Word) getting loads of attention and treats in the foyer.
1) Quality of Treats: 6
2) Quantity of Treats per Visit: 2
3) Ease With Which Treats Are Given: 2
4) Glowing Admiration Shown Unto Me: 5
5) Proper Rubbing/Physical Treatment: 5
6) Frequency Don Brings Me There: 4
Total Score: 24
SLICKS BOUTIQUE
Oh Slicks and you lovely, cat-loving twins. How do I love you and your smashing little shop!
I care nothing for cats, fashion nor Bipeds. Yet I have easily spent a lifetime pining at your front door. Did you even know that my love for you extends beyond dimension and time?!?! I love the both of you and all the things you do. Thank you for the decent treats. Thank you for your butt-rubs and adoration. Thank you for being you!
You should know I made a movie documenting my reverence of you and your lovely boutique. Should you click here, you shall see what I cannot summon the words to describe; A good-old-fashioned Slicks Dog Biscuit Feeding Frenzy. Please note that when the camera appears to jiggle back and forth, it it NOT an earthquake or structural deficiency in the building. It is merely my tail wagging unrestrainedly back and forth.
1) Quality of Treats: 4
2) Quantity of Treats per Visit: 6
3) Ease With Which Treats Are Given: 6
4) Glowing Admiration Shown Unto Me: 6
5) Proper Rubbing/Physical Treatment: 6
6) Frequency Don Brings Me There: 4
GROVER’S HARDWARE
I am sure Bipeds consider this a complete and amazing hardware store, because it is. Yet there have been huge differences from when Jon worked this establishment and the current day.
Grover’s was at the top of my treat list in the day. Sure, they were only standard gloppy Milk Bone fare, but Jon understood that a dog of my stature needed many solid treats and loving rubs to the butt / head. Since Jon’s exit, the dog treats have suffered greatly. Gone are the large bones. Hello mini-bones. Gone are multiple treats. Hello, single treats.
Although I must say Heidi is fantastic and generous regarding butt-rubs and admiring of my regal stature, but it appears she is powerless to affect the size and wealth of dog treats released by this establishment. Perhaps she is biding her time, waiting for the proper moment to seize power. Perhaps she is planning a bloodless coup. Hahaha! How naive could someone be? This isn’t a pet supply store! Of course there will be bloodshed when Grover’s is overthrown! Count on that my dear, and contact me when the day arrives.
In the days of yore when Don and I were walking by, I would wait outside Grover’s until I was awarded a substantial Milk Bone. Don became most forceful for me to follow, but I would dig in my heels and wait until I was justly rewarded. Endeavor to click here and observe me searching Grover’s Hardware for Jon and his celebrated treats.
Now, I merely glance through Grover’s window for the meagerest forthcoming tidbit. And I am on my way when I am certain a tiny one is not forthcoming. You could argue my disgruntlement contributed to this harsh score and you would be correct.
1) Quality of Treats: 1
2) Quantity of Treats per Visit: 6
3) Ease With Which Treats Are Given: 8
4) Glowing Admiration Shown Unto Me: 7
5) Proper Rubbing/Physical Treatment: 7
6) Frequency Don Brings Me There: 8
Total Score: 37
JANSON’S CLOTHING
Misunderstand the low rating to your peril. This is a fine establishment, and I recommend it to everyone with my dying breath. The owner Betty procures Bare Bites beef liver treats from our humble shop, so you know they are top-notch quality. Don rarely hangs around Janson’s to let the staff marvel in my beauty and offer more treats. The mediocre rating is more a reflection of the frequency with which Brickhead Don brings me to Janson’s and allows me to partake in said treats and adoration.
1) Quality of Treats: 12
2) Quantity of Treats per Visit: 9
3) Ease With Which Treats Are Given: 8
4) Glowing Admiration Shown Unto Me: 5
5) Proper Rubbing/Physical Treatment: 4
6) Frequency Don Brings Me There: 4
McDONALD’S – WISCASSET
They don’t allow dogs into the restaurant proper, which to me suggests species-ism. They do not give out dog treats per se, so everything must be garnered from the Biped at the window. And we all understand Don’s gullet. He’s not letting much Biped food escape his insatiable maw. And what food does manage to escape lands squarely upon his rotund belly where it will taunt me until Don The Biped Blimp un-tethers himself from the vehicle and steps outside. A smart dog will run around the truck to find an abundance of partially-consumed french fries, hamburger bits and used McNugget dipping sauce containers chock full of crumbly McNugget crusts. All cast off from Don’s enormous belly.
But I digress… No “Good Boy” rubbings are given here, not even a “Who’s a good boy?!?!” is inquired from the window. As it stands, it appears to be a blatant cash-grab by a soulless multinational corporation and Don falling for it.
1) Quality of Treats: 12
2) Quantity of Treats per Visit: 9
3) Ease With Which Treats Are Given: 6
4) Glowing Admiration Shown Unto Me: 5
5) Proper Rubbing/Physical Treatment: 0
6) Frequency Don Brings Me There: 10
Total Score: 43
DUNKIN’ DONUTS – WISCASSET
Whenever Don rolls his scarred, stained, filthy and ill-maintained truck through this establishment’s drive-through, all the dogs are ecstatic and barely controllable. With good reason.
This Dunkin’ Donuts staff makes it their personal responsibility to ensure every dog in Don’s truck gets a deserving welcome and treat. Without fail, and regardless of how busy the establishment is.
When Don approaches the window, we can hear the window staff squeal, “OOOOOOOOH!!!! LOOKIT THESE HANDSOME DOGS!!!!” and then other staff shall crowd around said window to heap praises upon us. ‘Twouldn’t matter how long the line was. ‘Twouldn’t matter the time of day. All truck-bound dogs will tremble at the mere thought of what delectable treats the staff should deliver.
Max (when the old boy was with us) and I would scramble up into the front seat and vie for fantastic, multiple head rubs and adoration. Even the dullard-dogs like Buddy and Teddy got butt rubs in the back seat by default. The staff would give treats especially for us dogs, so we needn’t rely on Don’s fickleness. And they personally gave us treats from their own hand. With all the treats given away at this establishment, I’m not sure how it stays in business.
Of course, the always-ravenous Don will procure all manner of luscious tid-bits for himself. Sometimes The Puppy Who Shall Not Be Named will land directly on Don’s naughty bits and Don will involuntarily stomp on the accelleratrix whilst screaming like a stuck pig. The result is that all living beings in the truck and the Dunkin’ Donuts are annoyed. Don will be less inclined to hand out the bounty received. Rest assured, I will bite The Puppy That Shall Not Be Named at a later, more convenient time.
Regardless of all the boring sub-plots, all dogs leave Dunkin’ with satisfied heads, butts, and stomachs.
Here are my favorite Dunkin’ Donuts treats listed in order from lowest to most desirable:
The ratings, with no further ado:
1) Quality of Treats: 12
2) Quantity of Treats per Visit: 6
3) Ease With Which Treats Are Given: 10
4) Glowing Admiration Shown Unto Me: 8
5) Proper Rubbing/Physical Treatment: 4
6) Frequency Don Brings Me There: 7
Total Score: 47
BATH SAVINGS INSTITUTION
The best thing about Bath Savings is that it’s directly across the street from the shop and Don and Liana have accrued their numerous and shameful debts there. They go in there all the time, no doubt to prostrate themselves before the institution’s Steward and beg for leniency. Other times they just need change for the shop. And contrary to their current policy of denigrating all dogs, they will always at jog at least one of us over as a pathetic hedge against the bank ruling them as insolvent as a skid mark in an Appalachian burlap sack-pant.
I am told that “The First,” “Bangor Savings” and other such usuries exist in Boothbay Harbor. I shan’t rate them in this missive, lest my yardstick be tainted by ignorance and hearsay.
You may also regard this rating as tainted inasmuch as the institution holds the title to our mortgage, vehicles, business loan, and other such choke holds on our financial freedom. As an honorable dog, I assure you that I care not for such things as mere Biped accounting of fiat currency. My rating is based solely upon the treats given at said usury, and not the financial aspects the Bipeds have mired themselves in.
1) Quality of Treats: 4
2) Quantity of Treats per Visit: 6
3) Ease With Which Treats Are Given: 12
4) Glowing Admiration Shown Unto Me: 10
5) Proper Rubbing/Physical Treatment: 5
6) Frequency Don Brings Me There: 12
ROBINSON’S WHARF
The Glory Days of Robinson’s Wharf will resonate with this salty cur until his dying day. Could there be better Salad Days for a dog?
In the days of yore, Robinson’s allowed Max, Coal, and myself up into Tugs Pub AFTER CLOSING. I can’t stress “In the days of Yore” and “AFTER CLOSING” enough people. Don’t get any dumb Biped-like ideas.
I will be frank with you. They were the greatest days of my life. In those days, I would actually hope Don would go drinking. He would put us in the truck after the shop closed and we’d sit in the truck for what seemed like ages until Don turned us loose. Then we’d run straight up the stairs like giddy school-dogs as the staff were hoisting chairs onto the tables. We nipped choice little morsels from the floor before the brooms and vacuums regained control. Of course we were forbidden from the kitchen. But that didn’t prevent the chef Jason from bringing out bountiful leftovers like bacon and french fries.
Many a butt-rub was given. Many a laugh was had. Many inter-species friendships were forged. And though this was many years ago, Jason still frequents the shop and we relive old times, albeit with a snack from the free treat bowl and not his delicious bacon.
Currently, Robinson’s Wharf is dog friendly. It is truly a fantastic destination for both man and beast. It is no slouch, however, the dogs are only tolerated out on the decks and wharf, and the treats served are mere the merest “Milk Bone” quality.
My score shall be an amalgam of history and current conditions.
1) Quality of Treats: 10
2) Quantity of Treats per Visit: 10
3) Ease With Which Treats Are Given: 10
4) Glowing Admiration Shown Unto Me: 9
5) Proper Rubbing/Physical Treatment: 8
6) Frequency Don Brings Me There: 7
Total Score: 54
GOOD N’ YOU FILLING STATION
Sure, the treats are tasteless Milk Bone ordure. Sure, the fuel is more expensive than the Irving in town and the whole place smells of grease, oil, and hydraulic fluid. But this is one of my favorite places in this whole garbage-barge-fire of a town to get treats.
What makes The Good n’ You filling station different is the number of times we visit to “fill up” and the number of treats given by the attendants. Head-rubs and butt rubs are abundant whilst Don’s truck is recharged with petro-fuel.
There is no “one dog treat given” at this establishment. There is always a plenitude. To all dogs. Even the dumb ones I dislike.
Sometimes Don will “drop off” his truck so Ronnie can hammer out all the damage Don has done to it. The we’ll go on a walk about town to Slick’s, Grover’s and Janson’s. That done, we’ll arrive back at the Good N’ You for more treats and the truck.
A satisfying day as measured by any yardstick.
1) Quality of Treats: 3
2) Quantity of Treats per Visit: 12
3) Ease With Which Treats Are Given: 12
4) Glowing Admiration Shown Unto Me: 9
5) Proper Rubbing/Physical Treatment: 11
6) Frequency Don Brings Me There: 9
Total Score: 56
PIER 1 PIZZA – BOOTHBAY HARBOR
TO THE LAW-ENFORCEMENT APPARATUS OF THIS STATE: YOU REALIZE THE AUTHOR OF THIS BLOG IS A DOG, RIGHT? THAT MEANS THIS EXEMPLUM IS PURE FICTION. RUN IT BY THE D.A. BEFORE KICKING IN ANY DOORS, OK?
We never come to this place in the summer. It is full of all kinds of ne’er-do-wells, sluggards, drifters, and tourists. Also, in the summer we are housed in Southport, which Don is loath to navigate after imbibing any intoxicating substances in Boothbay Harbor. But in winter, it is a mere walk from our quarters at The Barrel House to the many wintering watering holes that will tolerate a clown of Don’s magnitude for the tiniest sum.
Don will usually drink his fill and make his way back to us full of song and jolliness. Us dogs care not for song nor jollity, but we will need grave relief from our natural faculties. So Don will mercifully let us outside and I will make it a point to leave an extra-large mound for him as deep in the rose hip thorns as I possibly can. Don’t fret. His off-the-charts blood alcohol level prevents him from feeling any pain. And the humiliation is good for him.
Don will herd us down the hill to Pier 1 with a bag of luscious treats. Once there, Bipeds will swarm to us (Not Don) and repeatedly say how handsome and I am. The other dogs will get compliments as well, but not as striking or specific.
Then come the treats.
Of course there’s edible detritus on the floor to snap up at will. There’s also a little popcorn machine in the back that the Bipeds never tire of filling and emptying on the floor for us and paying customers. Then Winter (The bartender, not the season) will scrounge up some wonderful things from the closed pizza shop- floor pepperoni, over-cooked cheese, discarded crusts, and the best of all: discarded day-old pizza slices with over-cooked cheese and floor pepperoni.
As a Biped, could you honestly imagine anything better for a dog?
1) Quality of Treats: 10
2) Quantity of Treats per Visit: 12
3) Ease With Which Treats Are Given: 11
4) Glowing Admiration Shown Unto Me: 11
5) Proper Rubbing/Physical Treatment: 10
6) Frequency Don Brings Me There: 8
Total Score: 63
BOATHOUSE BISTRO
TO THE LAW-ENFORCEMENT APPARATUS OF THIS STATE: YOU REALIZE THE AUTHOR OF THIS BLOG IS A DOG, RIGHT? THAT MEANS THIS EXEMPLUM IS PURE FICTION. RUN IT BY THE D.A. BEFORE KICKING IN ANY DOORS, OK?
Shall I relate to you the happiest day of this old CURmudgeon’s life? (Haha! Get it?! Get it?! Get it!? Please tell me you get it! Hahaha!!!)
It was a blustery winter day. The tumultuous slate sky shook flurries all morning as a warning. The rising wind spread the shaken flakes to the unnoticed corners of town as though the flakes were looking for sanctuary. Plows fitfully spread salt and retardant on the asphalt, saving their energy for the big fight that was only hours away.
To Don’s credit, he didn’t get hammered and come back for me. We left the shop at the same time in the middle of the day. I know this is hard to believe. But I have Proof.
We made our way through the town we loved, not sure if we would find our way back to The Barrel House, much less survive. We walked in the middle of the empty, snow scoured streets. We crossed the Footbridge and worried about hypothermia. We hoped the electricity would hold out. There was no sound except the driving wind, and faraway plows with their beep-beeping like crickets in the night.
We had been away for a long time. We were tired and cold and alone and at the mercy of this brutish Maine Nor’Easter. I had suffered these many times before. Mostly after the fact. But this was much worse. Luckily, I found the Boathouse Bistro! We were saved!!!
Did Don thank me as he opened the heavy oaken door and tilted his head up to get the full force of the warmth inside? Nay, he did not. Did he give me a congratulatory butt rub or a thankful hug for leading us to this sanctuary? No.
He did what he did best – sat at the bar and got liquored up. I can’t blame the fragile old stumble-bum. Yet, it was clear I should rummage for food and other necessities in the wake of this apocalypse.
Before I’d gotten far on my mission, I was intercepted by Melissa and given such intense Butt-Rubs that I was rendered asunder. I knew Melissa from days of yore, and I knew she was not engaging in subterfuge. She understands a regal dogs’ needs. Other Bipeds followed from the kitchen and added their adoration, butt-rubbing, and googly-eyes.
Then began the delicacies: Bits of crispy duck, risotto, fried clam, hamburger, wiener schnitzel, broccolini, gnocchi, burrito, etc.
At no other time in my life had I wanted to be a chef. I told Don to let Chef Karin know I was ready for an an apprenticeship.
I am delighted to report that Don and I had such a wonderful time that day. For Don, it was no doubt the luxury of day drinking without having to care for a dog or encounter Paul at the bar. As for myself, it was the realization that I have little to complain about. I have a place in this universe, and The Boathouse Bistro fulfilled my puppyish dreams of culinary extravagance.
1) Quality of Treats: 12
2) Quantity of Treats per Visit: 12
3) Ease With Which Treats Are Given: 12
4) Glowing Admiration Shown Unto Me: 12
5) Proper Rubbing/Physical Treatment: 10
6) Frequency Don Brings Me There: 8
Total Score: 66
The only way you shall get more writing out of me is with an executed search warrant.
Now go away.
— I remain
Augustus Megatron Bulldozer Kingsbury
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3 replies on “DOG TREATMENT IN THIS GIMCRACK TOWN – by Auggie”
I laughed so hard, Dale became annoyed, of course!!!???
?? Greetings Kingsbury Family? ?
Well, here in California we have had ☔ rain!!! YAHOO!!! Still snow clouds at about 5,000-7,000 ft elevation ?️ and those three glorious mountains peeking out above the clouds….Mt. Whitney, Sawtooth and my favorite Homer’s Nose….yep boys looks just like the nose of a lab? the snow covered mountains are a beautiful site after 3 long years of drought.
The halter and lead are purrfect? for Chester I’ll have fun taking that Gladiator for walk come “Spring Ma’….
Enjoyed your monthly newsletter, thank you everyone for the belly laughs? ? !!! Keep up the good work!!!!
Thanks Auggie and Happy New Year to all!