Sometimes nightmares happen. Coming home from Europe on Monday we were entering the United States at O’Hare airport in Chicago. We do O’Hare about once a year and as such it is not our regular international customs spot. The line was as disorganized as ever. US Citizens pushed against the wall, lines were forced to cross and they only had six agents processing the entire cadre of US Residents. It was a mess with a capital “m”. Then from behind the counter came a Customs agent with or all things, a beagle.
Now, I must confess, I do not like beagles. I have nightmares about beagles as there is probably no other dog, I detest more than a beagle. I’d have a sex change operation before I’d own one…..urrrrrr. I get the willies thinking about beagles. This all stems from my past. I was a dog-lister for Wisconsin when I was in high school and college. Most Wisconsin townships require a license and I went around and listed all the mutts of various townships and was paid fifty cents a dog to list who owned them. This was really a strange job as I frequently had to invoke the wrath of dogs, the owners, and sometimes even the county. I needed to list them as male or female, spayed or neutered and usually I had to rely on my own observations and investigation as I got no help from the suspicious owners and frequently narrowly avoided getting bitten. I had my gun out on one dog (yes we traveled armed) but never used it but had to hit another Rottweiler with a pipe who was lunging at me.
None of that compared to the ‘beagles.’ On a farm outside of Milltown Wisconsin I found a place that had between seventy five and eighty beagles. These dogs all had the run of the property and I had to identify eighty almost identicle dogs and count them. At one point the owner, who actually cooperated but had no clue as to how many dogs he owned, allowed me to lead the entire pack into a barn. They all were very friendly and barked all the time and followed me in quite easily, too easily I should have suspected. I marked in one dog, checked its sex, and threw it over a half of a door and did the next. I continued for most of an hour. The problem was I never seemed to get to the end of the line. At dog number one-hundred, I smelled a problem and investigated the situation and found that the dogs had an entry tunnel into the barn around back. So the dog I threw over the door, ran around the barn, entered the tunnel and popped out in the next room and ran to join his or her buddies in jumping all over me and eventually got recounted. I never had the chance to try a new method as the UPS man drove into the yard and the entire pack ran me over as they knocked down the door to bark at the stranger. I listed eighty and called it a day. The owner thought that was a good estimate and signed the papers and apologized for the dog prints on my face and the claw marked on my body and dusted me off. The UPS man never left his truck. It was the weirdest forty bucks I ever made. I have never liked beagles since and never did that summer job again.
At Chicago, I looked at this trained beagle. It had to be one of those bomb detection or drug dogs. I was so happy that our government was doing its best to protect me and my children. I pointed out the dogs to my kids and we all watched him do his work. It was led past the people standing in line and then ahead of us, it stopped and sat by a young man wearing dreadlocks. It had found marijuana man, we suspected. The agent approached him and asked him some questions and then, he dropped his plastic bag he was carrying and the dog went wild.
Then we overhead him talk. The agent took his passport and promptly marked the dreaded black “A” on his immigration card. He had neither bombs nor drugs as apparently he had something apparently much worse. This dog was not a bomb or drug sniffing dog….he was the “sausage dog,” and what did this perpetrator dare have in his possession? His words said it all: “All I have is this bologna sandwich.” Yes, the apparent new plot to overthrow America is by the importation of bologna sandwiches, a sandwich which required him to invoke the wrath of our govenment agents.
It is illegal to bring into our fair country all meats and most dairy products save fish (the Canadians complained I suppose). Yes Genoa is considered an apparent lethal weapon, Medwurst is too explosive, and bratwurst, well we can’t even mention that in good company. It may lead you to Guantanamo, God forbid and what has this led to? A better America? No. There apparently has developed an entire underground industry to supply quality meats to big city chefs and meat smuggling has now become quite the shadow industry. Groups of paid ‘mules’ smuggling meats into the US clandestinely like a James Bond movie or a Law and Order episode. There is big money in underground meats and where there is a market there is a way. The answer, …apparently….just say no to sandwiches.
I have traveled through many a border post and I have only ever seen meat sniffing dogs. Drug dogs? Bomb dogs? Nope just sausage dogs. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I can only ask…why?
I challenge all my liberal friends to explain to me why they really want their government to do this? What are we being protected from? What industry are we protecting? What is next, protection from green underwear or pink shirts? How about French wine or Scotch whisky? What actually is wrong with sausage, it is cured or smoked? It tasted fine enough in Austria. I have no answers but I ponder what are we coming to as a people? All this and from a beagle no less, OMG! The Gestapo certainly cannot be far behind and probably led by a beagle.
Eat more meat, my friends but keep the “A” off your immigration form.