RSS Feed

Day #26: I’m the Scat Man!

Posted on

The Story:

“What you got here, is a dog who is suffering from depression. He wishes you would stay home more… and the fancy treats? They’re not fooling anyone. Trade in the treats for some TLC and your dog will be back to his chipper self…oh, and those missing Band-Aids? He ate those,” Bernie looked at his clipboard, scratched his chin and added the numbers. “That’ll be $42.50, ma’am,” he said, looking up at the polished woman holding a peach-colored Pomeranian. “Thank you so much, Mr. Dugan. I had no idea Mr. Biggles was suffering because of my social calendar. What you do, it’s some kind of magic! I can’t thank you enough and I will be sure to stay home with Mr. Biggles more,” the woman hugged her bored-looking pooch as she handed Bernie a check. “It’s no problem at all, ma’am; glad to help. If you ever require my services again, please don’t hesitate to call,” he said before turning to his truck and hopping in.

Back at his small, 600 square foot office, Bernie kicked off his shoes at the door where several other pairs lay in a pile before walking directly into the half bathroom and thoroughly washing his hands and forearms. After scrubbing for about five minutes, Bernie dried his hands on a few paper towels and plopping down in the cheap desk chair behind his poorly-made desk. Looking around at the minimal trimmings of his office, the dusty shelves and the one sad looking rubber plant in the corner, Bernie wondered for the thousandth time if he was in the right line of work. Well, ‘line of work’ wasn’t exactly accurate since as far as Bernie could tell he was the only one who did what he did…for a living anyway.

It all started when he was in college. One day as he was walking home from playing a pick-up game of Bocce Ball, Bernie was just stepping off the curb to cross the street when a car came screeching around a corner. Headed right for him, Bernie had no choice but to dive back onto the sidewalk in order to avoid being flattened like a pancake. Not having the chance to select the particular part of the sidewalk to land on, Bernie landed face first into a fresh pile of…well, let’s just say it wasn’t a delicious stack of fudge brownies. Fighting the urge to projectile vomit everywhere, Bernie quickly ran to the gutter of the street and splashed his face with the previous night’s rainwater runoff. While reeling in disgust from his unfortunate facial, Bernie was suddenly possessed by the strange feeling that whatever dog had left that little present on the sidewalk was suffering from a misaligned hip and also wished he had more carrots in his diet. Baffled, Bernie decided he must be coming down with something so he headed home and after a long, loooooonnggggg shower, he got into bed.

The next morning, Bernie felt 100% better and by lunch had almost forgotten the previous day’s face-plant in doggy doo.  Walking to his afternoon math class, Bernie was just about to his classroom’s door when SPLAT! Knowing instantly what had happened, Bernie winced as he looked over at his left shoulder. Sure enough, it was covered in bird… well, let’s just say it wasn’t a scoop of vanilla ice cream. “You’ve got to be kidding!” Bernie yelled. Making a 180 to the Men’s Room, Bernie stripped off his shirt but before he could wash it off in the sink he was overcome by the feeling that the bird responsible for dive-bombing him was a Kite who had just lost her mate and was desperately malnourished since she now had to search for food and protect her nest now that her mate was dead. “This is too weird,” Bernie thought, but before he could help himself he sniffed his shirt and immediately learned that the Kite was 17 months old, she preferred to eat tree frogs, and had a scar over her right eye caused by a sibling squabble when she was still in the nest. “Whoa,” was all the response he could manage.

Things started moving pretty quickly after that. Despite his ‘gift’ Bernie was able to graduate with a business degree and soon opened his own business. “I’m the Scat Man, mom… you know, I figure things out for people based on what their animals tell me through their…you know, their business,” Bernie was getting nowhere. His mom just didn’t understand why her precious son had decided to “throw his life down the toilet” as she was often fond of phrasing it. Bernie stopped trying to explain his work to his family after that… his dating life had pretty much dried up around that time as well.

not to be confused with this guy...

The first few years were the toughest. Convincing people that their pets were upset because their poo told you so, isn’t as easy a sell as you might think. Then he had caught a break. Tabitha Green was the hottest young celebrity of the minute and it seemed she was in a bit of trouble. Having tweeted that she was terribly concerned over the health of her pit-bull puppy, Snookums, she had decided that she would not film any more episodes of Dame Dracula, her hit TV drama, until Snookums was back to normal. Her followers flew into a panic. That’s when Bernie had been contacted. Turns out Tabitha’s assistant was a past client of Bernie’s and she pleaded with him to come right away. Never having heard of Tabitha Green or Dame Dracula, Bernie went and upon arriving asked to see the puppy. “I’ll need you to take him for a walk so he can… you know… go,” (but he didn’t say ‘go’ if you know what I mean). After about 20 minutes Snookums finally did the deed and Bernie set to work. Within two minutes flat Bernie handed the waifish starlet a list of his findings. “Basically, he hates his name. He would like it if you could call him something a bit more masculine, like Butch or Tank. Oh, and apparently one of the PAs keeps giving him grapes from craft services. Grapes are toxic to dogs, so you should find out who is sneaking him grapes and get them to stop,” Bernie said as he handed Tabitha’s assistant the bill and walked to his truck.

Days later, Snookums, now known as Stormtrooper, had made a full recovery and millions of fans exhaled a collective sigh of relief as Tabitha once again joined the cast and the shooting of Dame Dracula continued. Attributing Stormtroopers’ miraculous recovery to the Scat Man: Bernie Dugan, Bernie’s phone was ringing off the hook in a matter of minutes. Before the end of the day, his schedule was booked for six months out. Bernie was in demand. Everyone needed the Scat Man, from the LAPD needing assistance in finding a missing swan to the Cincinnati Zoo requesting his expertise in deciphering why Maxie the Bengal tiger wouldn’t eat to the Miami officials needing his help to eradicate the boa constrictor infestation in the Florida everglades.  

Yep, he had been on top of the world in those days. But that had been 20 years ago, before his popularity had begun to fizzle and people turned to the next big thing, pet psychics, dog whisperers, or whatever else was on TV that week.  Letting out a long sigh as he scanned the few appointments for that week, Bernie wondered if it was time to retire. I mean the man had been sniffing excrement for the last 25 years… that’s bound to wear anyone out. Bernie thought of all the things he would do, if he were to give it up. After about fifteen minutes of daydreaming, Bernie came to the same conclusion he always did after entertaining such thoughts… he wasn’t going anywhere. “Poo is what I do!” he proclaimed to his empty office. With that, he grabbed his hat and headed for the door…singing softly as he went, “I’m the scatman! Ski-ba-bop-ba-dop-bop… ski-bi dibby dib you da dub dub…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Not So Fantastic Reality:

(That song’s in your head now, isn’t it? Brew-ha-ha!)

The above story was inspired by the following tidbits I encountered today:

ONE:      Today I dealt with a lot of sh*t. Literally. The boyfriend and I volunteered at the animal haven again today, and I swear, half of my time was spent either scooping it, waiting for a dog to do it so I could take the next dog out or avoiding stepping in it (unsuccessfully, I might add). And then, as we loaded back into the car we noticed that some lovely animal had chosen the back window to do their duty all over. The shear amount of excrement on the window is pretty impressive, what kind of animal poops that?!?! Don’t look too close at the picture below if doo doo makes you squeamish. Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. Andy (the boyfriend) told me not to write about this delightful subject, citing the “once I start writing about poop there’s no going back from that”. Of course, he may have a point but the challenge was too appealing not to take. My apologies again, everyone.

That's one ginormous turd

TWO:    I played Bocce Ball today for the very first time today. Prior to today, I had no idea what that even was but it looked pretty simple so I gave it a go. Let’s just say that while I won’t be entering any competitions in the foreseeable future, I really enjoyed playing (even if my aim is just a little to the left… all of the time). Dumb luck has to kick in sometime right?

Love & Squirrels.

Advertisements

About samshine20

Writing a fictious story based on my day's events... every day. Apparently this is how I celebrate turning 30. That's me! ...just a girl with dream. And a blog.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: