Have you ever seen a drunk dog?
A drunk rottweiler, to be specific? I have. First, I have to tell you about my late Uncle Myron.
He was my dad's brother, and he never met a drop of alcohol that he didn't like. Myron Baker was the fun type of alcoholic: He wanted everyone to have a good time and be happy with life, and he never said a cross word about anyone. Sober Myron Baker was not someone you really wanted to be around. He was quiet and moody and when he did speak was short and quick like a rattlesnake.
My Uncle Myron would get stuck on things, and one of those things was rottweilers.
So much so that he had 17 of them in the span of the 23 years I knew him (he passed in 2004 from cancer). He named most of them Bruiser. When I was little, I thought that five or six of these separate dogs were the same dog until my dad explained to me many years later that it was various dogs. For example, Bruiser 4 ran into the highway, got run over and died, and then we had Bruiser 5, who looked the exact same and almost had the same personality.
I don't know where he got the dogs, but one of them, I think Bruiser 12, picked up a liking for the Budweiser that my uncle drank so frequently.
Bruiser and my uncle would sit out in the driveway behind the house and drink til their hearts were content. Bruiser could be found the next day lying under the picnic table, wailing and covering his eyes with his arms. I guess even dogs arent immune from hangovers.
But the dog never learned: The next time my uncle had his Budweiser out (which would be later that day because he drank every day), Bruiser would be up there begging for some in his bowl.
Bruiser became such a beer connoisseur that he could tell the difference between various brands and types.
He wouldn't touch Michelob. He liked Coors. He did not like any fancy, imported beer. He nearly tore a Rolling Rock out of my cousin's hand, so he must've liked that one too.
What he didn't like was light beer.
My uncle went to the doctor and was told he needed to switch to light beeer (the doctor knew he wouldn't quit drinking altogether). That weekend, my uncle got his suitcase of Bud Light and a six pack of the same for Bruiser.
The dog turned his nose up at it. From then on, my uncle had to buy Bruiser his very own six pack of Budweiser. And you would never see a happier animal on Friday night and a more destitute and downtrodden one on Saturday morning.
Robert J. Baker is the former editor for The Manning Times. He spends most of his time at dialysis and fighting crime.
