Old Bones About It

Dick Wolfsie

In my role as a TV reporter, I often receive inquiries from people requesting that I do a ;;;segment about their product or service. I am always on the lookout for stories that will engage the viewer and create, what we call in the business, water cooler conversation. You can imagine my delight when I found this request in my email inbox the other day:

Dear Mr. Wolfsie: A recent survey conducted by Flexmar Pharmaceuticals polled people with arthritic dogs to determine if certain home features are prevalent where these dogs live. Are you interested in knowing the results?

I was. The study was done in Fort Myers, Florida, the unofficial international center for arthritis complaints, where Motrin and Aleve have replaced after-dinner mints at Cracker Barrel and most people stay married for 50-plus years, mostly because they can’t get their wedding rings off.

But who knew that Fort Myers was also the canine capital of cartilaginous calamity and that from the tiniest poodle to the heftiest Saint Bernard, our furry friends don’t really crave T-Bones and tummy rubs, but instead yearn for a simple time-tested ingredient to stimulate joint fluid lubrication. Sorry, I know I’m taking the romance out of “sit” and “roll over.”

The company claims the supplement is also effective with canine gout and fibromyalgia, two maladies I was not aware a dog could get. About the last thing I want is my beagle complaining about his aching big toe. And sorry, you just can’t tune a guitar to “My dog has stiff joints.”

Instead of obsessing about high-tech kitchens, walk-in closets and home theatres, Flexmar believes that newlyweds should focus on the startling statistics they’ve provided, in order to avoid poor real estate choices. The fate of your 16-year-old Cocker Spaniel is at stake. Go to any home with an arthritic dog and this is the scary stuff you will find inside…

• 43.8% have tall furniture
• 68.3% have tile floors
• 63.6% have stairs
• 54.2% have backyard patios with cement flooring
• 36.7% have no backyard

I was dumbstruck by these numbers, even more incredulous than when I read in USA Today that 41.9 percent of all sandwich mavens prefer mayonnaise and only 16.4 percent opt for mustard.

Let’s face it, only the totally self-absorbed would buy a set of kitchen stools so high that their aging Schnauzer can’t belly up to the bar. And why isn’t there a law requiring a plush carpet in kitchens? Don’t they have adoption screening at Humane Societies? I don’t want the government intruding in our private lives any more than you do, but I think laws mandating pet elevators in all newly built homes is why we elect a Congress in the first place.

By the way, who performed this bizarre door-to-door survey? Probably some federal agents from Arizona who were a little uncomfortable asking folks if they had their immigration papers, so they decided there was less of a chance of violence if they inquired about their cement patios.

I’m not insensitive to the pain that older dogs must endure. My beagle, Barney, and I hobbled around together for the last few years of his life. The dog was a always little whiny about all his infirmities. He demanded extra petting and Pupperoni because he claimed his rheumatism kept him up at night, which was his excuse for snoozing all day. I didn’t believe a word of it, but I didn’t argue with him. Let sleeping dogs lie.