Boynton Beach Chronicles - Jerry Klinger (great book club books txt) 📗
- Author: Jerry Klinger
Book online «Boynton Beach Chronicles - Jerry Klinger (great book club books txt) 📗». Author Jerry Klinger
him how to swim.
The wife and I first set up the temperature on the pool heater. It should be comfortable for Norman's first dip. We both got into the water next to the step and slowly tried to coax Norman into the water. He did not want to go in. We tried everything to get him to come in including bringing his favorite toy, a large yellow winged dinosaur chew toy, into the water with us. He would not come in. As any advanced thinking father does, I went out and picked him and carried him into the water with me. After awhile he became used to the water enough to be let go but with my hands under his belly for emergency support. He dog paddled to the steps and got out. Norman knew how to swim naturally. Upon emerging from the pool, he shook himself vigorously and gave us such a look….
Education does not stop with swimming or house training. We enrolled Norman in Puppy school. We take him for classes once a week at 9:00am, on Thursday. There are two other pups in the class. One is an over energized sheltie whose owner was a young guy living in an apartment that wanted a dog to run with him in the morning. His name was Cooper.
The other dog, more a rat, with a rats disposition and look than a dog. She was a black and tan Chihuahua that belonged to a beak faced oriental lady. She named her dog Shagra. Shagra was shlepped to class in a pink oversized pocketbook. Shagra is nasty always snapping, barking, lunging at Norman and Cooper. The owner seemed smug that her nasty little biter was cowering all the other pups. Norman is very good natured and laid back. He is not an aggressive dog. If strangers come into the house he does lung for them. He lungs to jump up on their leg, wagging his tail furiously, tongue licking the proffered hand and then peeing on their shoes. Perhaps it was one snap too much, or one lung too much but little Normie had had enough. Suddenly he faced Shagra and snarled a loud bark with teeth. Shagra zoomed back to hide under her owner's feet, shaking with fear. The oriental lady's smirk vanished. Norman just as quickly lay back down quietly. Our boy did good, a real Jewish fighter. We were so proud.
Next week is graduation from puppy school. Over the weeks, Norman has learned many useful things, good sit, good look, good walk, and an assortment of tricks that his parents can never get correct. Cooper is getting huge, Norman's short legs are still short and Shagra hides under her owner's feet as nasty and rat like as ever. There will be a graduation party with cap and gown next Thursday. We will take lots of pictures and they will be up on You Tube. He has his own web page.
New York Jews are thick as fleas on a red neck's hound's back legs in Boynton Beach. The season of the Hadj brings them down by the thousands between Thanksgiving and Passover. Disabled parking spaces instantly vanish when they arrive as all of them have disabled placards from their nephews or nieces who are doctors back up North. They bring with them some strange new New York Jewish customs. Sometimes it would be best if they and their customs stayed in New York.
The latest New York Jewish rite of life passage is the Bark-Mitzvah – a bar mitzvah and party for the family dog. These New Yorker dog lovers take this very seriously. No doubt the family pooch has found it very offensive to go the Cheder for all those years instead of romping, chewing and pooping in its owner's house. They even put the event on the internet to share with the world. Norman will never have a bark mitzvah. We are not entirely sure his mother was Jewish. Though he likes to swim, a mikvah is not in his future. The wife insists that when he is seven months old he has to have a bris. He has to be neutered. We have not told him about those plans yet.
The pup flew with us to Washington to be introduced to the kids last night. The plan was simple, he is small enough to fit in a doggie travel bag under the seat in front of us. We struggled with anxiety – would he fly well, will he get airsick? Will he bark and bark from stress? Should we get him drugs to settle down? Everything is drugs now. Even my newly arrived grandson was drugged at his bris by his mohel, a physician, who told my nervous son and anxious daughter in law the baby will never feel a thing; that is the new Jewish American way.
We never did drug Normie. He did fine. My drugged out grandson did fine as well.
Arriving at Palm Beach International airport, the U.S. Airways clerk said "you have an Irish Wolf Hound". I corrected the clerk, "he is a Jewish Cock-a-Tzu". Just the same Norman would have to buy a $200 round trip ticket to ride in his bag under the seat in front of us. They just raised the fare. Norman needed an airline ticket? I was flabbergasted. "He only weighs ten pounds. Does he get a seat at least?" I asked how much for him to fly below. Oh, they do not fly animals below anymore except if they are going from Washington to Boston. Why Boston? Senator Ted Kennedy likes to fly his dogs back to Boston with him. Being a member of the elite privileged class does have it benefits.
We got Norman his very own frequent flyer number on U.S. Airlines. His user name is Arf –Arf.
Being a frequent flyer has its privileges. The wife always enjoys my upgrades when she flies with me. I know what is in my best interest. My seat was upgraded to first class. The wife and Norman quickly settled into the elite location, I went to the back of the plane with the rest of the peasants. The wife and Norman had a lovely flight and shared a couple of Bailey's Irish Creams. I got a warm diet cola. They were out of ice.
Jewish dogs are smarter than the average dog. When Norman and I go for our morning walk to his favorite rest room spot at Majestic Isles, the sprinklers are spritzing the grass along the ways. Invariably Norman walks to my side but when the sprinkles are spritzing he puts me between the water spray and himself so I can be a shield. If it is raining and he needs to go out, he won't leave the dry garage while I stand in the rain trying to coax him. It was bright and hot yesterday. Again, I needed to let him out to do what he does. I stood in the hot searing sun shvitzing, he sauntered over to a shady spot and laid down.
We like to play ball together. I throw the ball and wait for Norman to retrieve it so I can throw it again. It is a fun game. As we sat in my son's family room throwing the ball for Norman to retrieve, I happened upon a great way to exercise him. The door to the basement was directly off of the room. I opened the basement door, turned on the lights and sat back on the couch with the ball. With a deadly accurate throw the ball, sailed through the basement door and down the steps. "Norman get the ball." Norman promptly ran to the open basement door, looked down the steps and clearly could see the ball. He would not move. I went over to Norman, who was excitedly wagging his tail and said, "Norman, ball, get the ball." He looked at me, looked at my pointing hand, looked down the steps into the basement and would not move. I ended going doing the steps into the basement and throwing the ball back up to the dog. Norman chewed it and then rolled the ball back down the steps for me to retrieve. Why should he run down the stairs when he can get me to do it for him?
Jewish dogs are smart. Norman is smart most of the time. He did very well during the visit to our son. The entire house has hard wood flooring except for the living room, which is a thick white-carpeted area. Perhaps it was my fault. As soon as we all walked into my son's new home, I exclaimed, "Look Norman – carpeting." That is exactly where, he promptly decided, to do his business.
My son says we can bring Norman again but only if none of his four-legged friends show up. That was another story. I will always insist that Norman did not break that lamp.
We lit the Shabbat candles. I held Norman and gave him a little taste of the sweet wine from my fingertip.
There are so many true stories about Boynton Beach...would I make this up? O.K. a bit of exaggeration but who can argue that exaggeration is not a reflection of truth.
And...there's more to tell. Friday night is getting close, I hope that Sheila will not cut me off.
The things that a man will do....
________________________________________
1 Mt. Sample, a pubic (the correct term is public but you should see this place) landfill, is reputed to be the highest point in Palm Beach Co., Florida. Palm Beach County is the home of the infamous hanging chad of the 2000 Presidential election and of the old Jews who, ostensibly, could not see, understand or follow directions to vote correctly.
2 http://www.jewfaq.org/animals.htm
3 I have been energetically arguing with the wife about Torah law. I told her it is a violation of Jewish law to neuter a pet, even citing (Lev. 22:24). Prohibiting castrating of any species is not dissuading her and the veterinarian from their intended plan. My fear is for Norman first and for my own safety second.
~~~~~~~
Imprint
The wife and I first set up the temperature on the pool heater. It should be comfortable for Norman's first dip. We both got into the water next to the step and slowly tried to coax Norman into the water. He did not want to go in. We tried everything to get him to come in including bringing his favorite toy, a large yellow winged dinosaur chew toy, into the water with us. He would not come in. As any advanced thinking father does, I went out and picked him and carried him into the water with me. After awhile he became used to the water enough to be let go but with my hands under his belly for emergency support. He dog paddled to the steps and got out. Norman knew how to swim naturally. Upon emerging from the pool, he shook himself vigorously and gave us such a look….
Education does not stop with swimming or house training. We enrolled Norman in Puppy school. We take him for classes once a week at 9:00am, on Thursday. There are two other pups in the class. One is an over energized sheltie whose owner was a young guy living in an apartment that wanted a dog to run with him in the morning. His name was Cooper.
The other dog, more a rat, with a rats disposition and look than a dog. She was a black and tan Chihuahua that belonged to a beak faced oriental lady. She named her dog Shagra. Shagra was shlepped to class in a pink oversized pocketbook. Shagra is nasty always snapping, barking, lunging at Norman and Cooper. The owner seemed smug that her nasty little biter was cowering all the other pups. Norman is very good natured and laid back. He is not an aggressive dog. If strangers come into the house he does lung for them. He lungs to jump up on their leg, wagging his tail furiously, tongue licking the proffered hand and then peeing on their shoes. Perhaps it was one snap too much, or one lung too much but little Normie had had enough. Suddenly he faced Shagra and snarled a loud bark with teeth. Shagra zoomed back to hide under her owner's feet, shaking with fear. The oriental lady's smirk vanished. Norman just as quickly lay back down quietly. Our boy did good, a real Jewish fighter. We were so proud.
Next week is graduation from puppy school. Over the weeks, Norman has learned many useful things, good sit, good look, good walk, and an assortment of tricks that his parents can never get correct. Cooper is getting huge, Norman's short legs are still short and Shagra hides under her owner's feet as nasty and rat like as ever. There will be a graduation party with cap and gown next Thursday. We will take lots of pictures and they will be up on You Tube. He has his own web page.
New York Jews are thick as fleas on a red neck's hound's back legs in Boynton Beach. The season of the Hadj brings them down by the thousands between Thanksgiving and Passover. Disabled parking spaces instantly vanish when they arrive as all of them have disabled placards from their nephews or nieces who are doctors back up North. They bring with them some strange new New York Jewish customs. Sometimes it would be best if they and their customs stayed in New York.
The latest New York Jewish rite of life passage is the Bark-Mitzvah – a bar mitzvah and party for the family dog. These New Yorker dog lovers take this very seriously. No doubt the family pooch has found it very offensive to go the Cheder for all those years instead of romping, chewing and pooping in its owner's house. They even put the event on the internet to share with the world. Norman will never have a bark mitzvah. We are not entirely sure his mother was Jewish. Though he likes to swim, a mikvah is not in his future. The wife insists that when he is seven months old he has to have a bris. He has to be neutered. We have not told him about those plans yet.
The pup flew with us to Washington to be introduced to the kids last night. The plan was simple, he is small enough to fit in a doggie travel bag under the seat in front of us. We struggled with anxiety – would he fly well, will he get airsick? Will he bark and bark from stress? Should we get him drugs to settle down? Everything is drugs now. Even my newly arrived grandson was drugged at his bris by his mohel, a physician, who told my nervous son and anxious daughter in law the baby will never feel a thing; that is the new Jewish American way.
We never did drug Normie. He did fine. My drugged out grandson did fine as well.
Arriving at Palm Beach International airport, the U.S. Airways clerk said "you have an Irish Wolf Hound". I corrected the clerk, "he is a Jewish Cock-a-Tzu". Just the same Norman would have to buy a $200 round trip ticket to ride in his bag under the seat in front of us. They just raised the fare. Norman needed an airline ticket? I was flabbergasted. "He only weighs ten pounds. Does he get a seat at least?" I asked how much for him to fly below. Oh, they do not fly animals below anymore except if they are going from Washington to Boston. Why Boston? Senator Ted Kennedy likes to fly his dogs back to Boston with him. Being a member of the elite privileged class does have it benefits.
We got Norman his very own frequent flyer number on U.S. Airlines. His user name is Arf –Arf.
Being a frequent flyer has its privileges. The wife always enjoys my upgrades when she flies with me. I know what is in my best interest. My seat was upgraded to first class. The wife and Norman quickly settled into the elite location, I went to the back of the plane with the rest of the peasants. The wife and Norman had a lovely flight and shared a couple of Bailey's Irish Creams. I got a warm diet cola. They were out of ice.
Jewish dogs are smarter than the average dog. When Norman and I go for our morning walk to his favorite rest room spot at Majestic Isles, the sprinklers are spritzing the grass along the ways. Invariably Norman walks to my side but when the sprinkles are spritzing he puts me between the water spray and himself so I can be a shield. If it is raining and he needs to go out, he won't leave the dry garage while I stand in the rain trying to coax him. It was bright and hot yesterday. Again, I needed to let him out to do what he does. I stood in the hot searing sun shvitzing, he sauntered over to a shady spot and laid down.
We like to play ball together. I throw the ball and wait for Norman to retrieve it so I can throw it again. It is a fun game. As we sat in my son's family room throwing the ball for Norman to retrieve, I happened upon a great way to exercise him. The door to the basement was directly off of the room. I opened the basement door, turned on the lights and sat back on the couch with the ball. With a deadly accurate throw the ball, sailed through the basement door and down the steps. "Norman get the ball." Norman promptly ran to the open basement door, looked down the steps and clearly could see the ball. He would not move. I went over to Norman, who was excitedly wagging his tail and said, "Norman, ball, get the ball." He looked at me, looked at my pointing hand, looked down the steps into the basement and would not move. I ended going doing the steps into the basement and throwing the ball back up to the dog. Norman chewed it and then rolled the ball back down the steps for me to retrieve. Why should he run down the stairs when he can get me to do it for him?
Jewish dogs are smart. Norman is smart most of the time. He did very well during the visit to our son. The entire house has hard wood flooring except for the living room, which is a thick white-carpeted area. Perhaps it was my fault. As soon as we all walked into my son's new home, I exclaimed, "Look Norman – carpeting." That is exactly where, he promptly decided, to do his business.
My son says we can bring Norman again but only if none of his four-legged friends show up. That was another story. I will always insist that Norman did not break that lamp.
We lit the Shabbat candles. I held Norman and gave him a little taste of the sweet wine from my fingertip.
There are so many true stories about Boynton Beach...would I make this up? O.K. a bit of exaggeration but who can argue that exaggeration is not a reflection of truth.
And...there's more to tell. Friday night is getting close, I hope that Sheila will not cut me off.
The things that a man will do....
________________________________________
1 Mt. Sample, a pubic (the correct term is public but you should see this place) landfill, is reputed to be the highest point in Palm Beach Co., Florida. Palm Beach County is the home of the infamous hanging chad of the 2000 Presidential election and of the old Jews who, ostensibly, could not see, understand or follow directions to vote correctly.
2 http://www.jewfaq.org/animals.htm
3 I have been energetically arguing with the wife about Torah law. I told her it is a violation of Jewish law to neuter a pet, even citing (Lev. 22:24). Prohibiting castrating of any species is not dissuading her and the veterinarian from their intended plan. My fear is for Norman first and for my own safety second.
~~~~~~~
Imprint
Publication Date: 11-06-2011
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