Chapter 6 Flies and Dogs
I flew around aimlessly until I spotted a dumpster where several flies were hard at work, mining food from yesterday's garbage. I settled on a telephone pole where I had a clear view of the dumpster, the flies, and a nearby park where people walked their dogs. I flew down for a closer look.
Those house flies were a scruffy lot; hairy, scarred, and none too friendly. Fruit flies are more refined. I approached cautiously, looking for a little companionship and maybe some food.
Flies don't eat much at every meal, they have to eat continuously to stay alive. It's a matter of first things first, so the resident flies were busy and not prone to being sociable.
Once inside the dumpster, a manic group of flies had settled on half a bagel with a few ragged edges of lox and not one of them was inclined to give an inch to a newcomer. My stomach turned at the prospect of eating this filthy trash.
I had become accustomed to eating fresh food from a clean plate at home. I buzzed back up to the edge of the dumpster, where a really unattractive female housefly was perched. She gave me the signs and odors that she was ready for me to have sex with her to fertilize her eggs. I blew off this fly, and she pursued me, even taunting me for not responding. I told her I had a headache. I yearned to be home in Malibu.
Flies don't have headaches. I could have told her that I was too old for her, having by far outlived my thirty-day lifespan, but I doubted she would understand that either.
While I processed this dilemma, the female housefly spotted a load of dog excrement by the side of the dumpster and flew down to investigate. Typical housefly behavior. Fruit flies are not so prone to the disgusting conduct of house flies.
Houseflies hang out in dead carcasses, dumpsters, sewer systems, and animal excrement. They are the real spreaders of disease, not us fruit flies. There was no way I considered going along with this program, but it did make me think about why people hate flies. If this is what flies are attracted to, then I want no part of it.
I knew that I needed to wait for Barbara to return, so I could not go too far from the place where she parked her car. I had seen the park, which was not far from the CBS building, and I made my way there, looking for a better class of food and company.
The park was mostly empty, but a few people were walking their dogs. I had seen them on the beach in Malibu, and I can't say I was wild about these creatures. They deposit their excrement at random, and nobody pays much attention to it. Flies and other dogs sniff around it endlessly, and that doesn't make a good impression on me.
Dogs are a lot like flies, in that they always pursue the worst of the garbage to be found in trash cans, dumpsters, and litter. They're more aggressive because of their size and strength. Even the well-groomed dogs, who fawn and slobber over their masters and seem so well-behaved on their leashes, wearing dainty sweaters, vests, booties, and collars, are ungovernable monsters.
They lick the master's face, and then a second later, jam their noses up another dog's butt, or into a pile of shit. I don't see what makes people so crazy about these animals, why they let them sleep on their beds, watch television on their couches, pamper them with expensive food, and generally make fools of themselves trying to please them.
The dogs are welcome in every room in the house, even in the kitchen where food is everywhere. It's not unusual for them to sit under a table, or next to it while the family is eating, and be hand-fed choice morsels of food I would die for.
These befuddled dog lovers hate the insects that the dog carries around on its body, and believe me dogs have tons of insects on them all the time. I have flown around a few of these beasts in Malibu, watching the insects on their backs and private parts dance feverishly about, like jumping beans.
Do these dedicated pet owners realize that dogs are like mobile insect hotels? They don't begin to react until they learn that the dog has fleas. Then they sprinkle some benign expensive but ineffectual powder on the pooch instead of paying attention to those black insects that burrow into the dog's skin. They would have to set the dog on fire to get rid of the fleas if they knew the truth.
When I flew in front of these dogs, their breath nearly melted my wings. They fart continuously, polluting the air that their masters breathe. And the barking; that guttural, harsh, meaningless sound they give off - like a wartime air raid blast or a foghorn tornado warning. Any rational person would be irritated, but dog lovers seem to think it's cute or even has meaning.
The buzzing of a fly, by comparison, is a love song, yet it drives people nuts. The barking, at worst, gets a pat on the head with a soothing warning to calm down and a doggie biscuit to make the dumb brute happy. The fly doesn't get a warning, he earns a crushing blow that terminates his life.
This is so unjust. A well-fed fly would make a much better pet.