This is the time of year most of them are leaving so I guess it’s safe to talk about them. You know who I mean. Every year, when it starts to get cold up North, they flock down here by the thousands. They try to take over everything. They’re all over the place. They stomp around the neighborhood and town squares like they own them. You smile at them and try to be nice, and they just snarl. What’s worst of all, sometimes nobody picks up their poop.
This proves once again you should never jump to conclusions. You thought I was talking about snowbirds but it should certainly be obvious by now I am not. Actually, snowbirds are nice folks and the ones I know are good friends. Snowbirds might cause a little extra traffic and longer lines in our favorite restaurants but the restaurants likely wouldn’t be there at all if the snowbirds weren’t around. Certainly, a few of the snowbirds are jerks, but the jerk to non-jerk ratio among snowbirds is no higher than it is among full-time Villagers.
Snowbirds have lots of positives but they do bring one dreaded thing with them: snowdogs. They disrupt the daily routine in The Villages and create a rift in the natural order of life. The problem with snowdogs is their size. They’re big. They’re huge. They slobber. They violate the prime directive of dogdom in The Villages which says that, by definition, a dog in The Villages is small.
There are many types of dogs in The Villages, but they all have littleness in common. We’ve got fluffy little dogs, yippy little dogs, ankle-biter little dogs, hairless little dogs, and an occasional little wiener dog.
When the dome was first placed over The Villages, they forgot to include an important proviso limiting the size of Villages dogs. My first thought for such a rule was no dog in The Villages can be bigger than a breadbox. That idea was rejected since nobody knows what size a breadbox is, at least since “What’s My Line?” went off the air.
Then I decided the perfect maximum size for a dog in The Villages was 28 pounds. Any dog weighing more than 28 pounds would automatically be refused entry into the bubble. All the little dogs would rejoice.
It is purely coincidental that our dog Paris weighs 27½ pounds. This makes Paris the biggest dog in the neighborhood. As such, she benevolently reigns as Queen Bee/Alpha Dog of the neighborhood. Each day while touring her empire, Paris is greeted by all the neighborhood little dogs that gather around her to pay homage. Fluffy dogs, yippy dogs, hairless dogs, and wiener dogs unite in exchanging morning sniffs with the queen. The one exception is a little black-and-white yippy dog whose goal in life is to make his bones by beating up the queen. Paris ignores him and most certainly is regally saying “We are not amused” in dog talk.
Needless to say, the normal way of life in our neighborhood is disrupted for three or four months by the presence of those monstrous and surly snowdogs.
Of course, things could be worse. Snowbirds could bring huge snowcats or angry and smelly snowferrets.