Fido & Me — Casino Dog


“What’s the deal with the blue leash?” Fido asked. “I usually have a red leash. Not complaining, just wondering.”


“It’s because we’re in a big, dog-friendly hotel, Fido, and the hotel people just want to make sure you have checked in and are a legitimate guest.”


“I’m a legitimate guest?!?!? Who would have guessed that in my life I would attain legitimate guesthood!”


“I take it that you are thrilled.”


“I feel like a movie star!”


“Aw, Fido, you’re a movie star to me every day.”


“But why are we in a hotel? This is a first, isn’t it? And what kind of a hotel is it? I have to admit, it’s a little bit noisy.”


“It’s noisy, a little bit, because it’s a casino hotel and we’re in Nevada. And right across the highway, not that you can see it, exactly, is a really big hospital. We’re here because the hospital sent me packing, and we have to wait overnight for someone to come and pick us up.”


“Is that why we’re moving a little bit slow, too?”


“I don’t know about you, Fido, but I am as sore as sore can be. We were in a car accident.”

“Now that you mention it…” Fido said.


“But now that we’re here, let’s try to make our way around, and see what’s what. I wouldn’t think you’d have a preference, so let’s just kind of start out easy at the coffee shop.”


“In a CASINO?!?” Fido cried. “We can do that at home! I say we hit the cocktail lounge!”


“Gee whiz, Fido, that sure didn’t take you long.”


“But how often are we in a dog-friendly casino hotel?”


“Point taken.”


“I’ll have the Lassie Special,” Fido said to the bartender.


“What’s in a Lassie Special, Fido? I hope this won’t make you ill.”


“It’s just a bowl of water!” Fido said, “but it is served in a special bowl, with a picture of Lassie on the bottom.”


“Oh, I get it,” I said. “Then I suppose I’ll have the Benji Bowl, and we can maybe talk about what we’d like to visit on the casino floor.”


“I think I’d like to visit a one-armed bandit,” Fido said.


“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Old Boy.”


“Well, you take a biscuit, see, and put it into a biscuit slot, then you pull the handle, and sometimes a whole load of biscuits pours out of this bigger slot below.”


“Sometimes nothing comes out, though, Fido, and your original biscuit has disappeared. That doesn’t seem like much of a good deal, if you ask me.”


“Okay, then, let’s go to one of the tables! I like the one with the big wheel. It spins, you throw a biscuit in there, and if you have placed a biscuit on the right spot on the table, the nice woman in the bow tie gives you back a whole load of biscuits.”


“Fido, I think you may have an inflated idea of how this works. Usually she gets to keep your biscuit and not give you any back at all.”


“OK, so what are those other tables?”


“They’re not for the dog-guests, Fido. They are craps tables, and they are for people only. For obvious reasons.”


“Maybe I don’t feel so much like a movie star anymore,” Fido said.