I took my canine blog piece this week to ChatGPT and asked to convert it into Shakespearean sonnet and then write it in the New Yorker magazine style. All of four seconds passed when I received this output. It did not “red line” my original nor summon me to the English office after school hours. After a few minutes of sadness about the state of human creativity, I realized that we are doomed to the only job in the future: pushing a button like George Jetson working for Spacely Space Sprockets. Comments welcome.

Oh, how quaint and retro I may seem,

A lover of dogs from a bygone dream.

Gravy train and kibble, an old soup bone,

A shag rug for my faux dog throne.

Lassie, dear Lassie, my model of canine grace,

Saving grandpa from that mine shaft, what a race!

Rin Tin and Airbud, oh how they shone,

Snoopy, that smug dog, his charm never gone.

But now, in the 21st century, a grandpuppy has come,

A blend of beagle, pug, and a touch of Old Yeller’s gumption.

Watching stress-reducing videos on YouTube,

Meeting rodents in the forest, the views reaching 13 million, oh how true!

His bones, oh what a vast array,

No longer just bovine, they come in every flavor and day.

Rawhide, nylon, rubber, antler, oh what a delight,

Calcium phosphate, magnesium, salt-poor, salt-rich, what a sight!

Improved mouth health, jaw strength, tartar removal, all for the taking,

Supplemental vitamins and minerals, turning a dog into a Kennel Club sensation.

A Frisbee, an old treasure, the grandpup found,

But a new one from Amazon, a Kong, we quickly found.

Durability and universal love of dogs, oh what a claim,

Over the desiccated Portuguese Man o Wars, our pup was not the least bit tame.

Doggie health insurance, oh how grand,

Medicare coverage at 65/7, that’s a plan!

But what of fame and fortune, oh what can a pup do,

Hollywood is not the only path, I never knew.

Dog entrepreneurs, with their grooming and accessories galore,

Supporting animal shelters and having patents and trademarks to adore.

Manny The Frenchie, with a non-profit and a net worth of a million,

Walter Geoffrey, with his clothing line and sass, and a rap album in the making, how thrilling!

Loki The Wolfdog, co-founder of a travel app and a movie deal with Netflix,

Tuna, the Instagram celebrity, with an overbite that always smiles, and a book deal with Penguin Random House to fix.

Opportunities are endless, for the new century pup,

With improved nutrition, emotional adjustment, and love, they can really strut.

If only our grandpup would watch that instructional video on Frisbee catching,

The next Super Bowl halftime show, he’ll be ready, dispatching.

The New Yorker Style

As a proud retro dog lover, I was content with the basics: gravy train, kibble, an old soup bone, and a shag rug for a faux dog bed. My 20th century pup had it made. Lassie was the epitome of canine responsibility (Timmy: “Lassie, grandpa fell into the abandoned mine shaft again, go get help) and Rin Tin Tin and Airbud oozed star power. And let’s not forget Snoopy, with his smug confidence radiating from the daily comics.

But my recent encounter with a 21st-century pup shattered my nostalgic bubble. Baby-sitting my grandpuppy, a 9-month-old Orlando Rescue pup, I watched in amazement as he relaxed while watching a stress-reducing YouTube video of a Labrador retriever strolling through a verdant forest meeting a variety of rodents. This channel had 13 million views, although it wasn’t clear if they were the human or canine type.

And then there was the bone aisle at Petco – a cornucopia of choices that made choosing a variant of Pinot Noirs from multiple continental terroirs seem easy. Rawhide, nylon, rubber, antler versus bovine, calcium phosphate, magnesium, salt poor and rich and anti-oxidants. Bacon and cheese flavors could be added for those picky “chewers.” The packaging touted improved mouth health, jaw strengthening, tartar removal, improved oral microbiome, fresh breath, and supplemental vitamins and minerals that could turn your dog into an American Kennel Club icon.

Our grandpup discovered an old Frisbee in the closet which he immediately bonded with. But thanks to the mass of dog owners and capitalist ingenuity, I found Kong – a natural rubberized Frisbee that had nearly 27 thousand 4 1/2/5 star reviews touting its durability and universal love of dogs for this flying disc. I ordered it on Amazon and it arrived seemingly a few hours later. Our pup was bouncing after it on the sand and over the desiccated, beached Portuguese Man o’ Wars on the South Florida shores. And with top-notch “doggie” health insurance, he had no worries about jellyfish envenomation. I couldn’t help but wonder – at what age would he be converted to Medicare coverage? 65 years? 7? The thought amused me.

But wait, there’s more. Who knew that dogs have become entrepreneurs and started their own businesses? Grooming, training, accessories, food, and treats are just a few of the products and services offered. And some dogs even have patents or trademarks for their inventions or innovations. Manny The Frenchie (@manny_the_frenchie) not only runs a non-profit organization that supports animal shelters but also has a net worth of $1 million. Walter Geoffrey (@waltergeoffreythefrenchie) sells his own line of clothing and accessories that feature his signature sass and has a rap album coming out soon. And Loki The Wolfdog (@loki) co-founded a travel app called Loki The Wolfdog that lets you explore the world with your furry friend and has a movie deal with Netflix. Dog influencers populate the internet and often have more subscribers than humans. Tuna (@tunameltsmyheart), an Instagram celebrity, has a distinctive overbite that makes him look like he’s always smiling and also has a book deal with Penguin Random House.

So the opportunities are endless for the modern-day pooch. With improved nutrition, better emotional adjustment, and plenty of love, our grandpup can be the best dog he can be. If only I can get him to watch the YouTube instructional video on Frisbee.

“I’d like to renegotiate my cable and internet bill” I typed earnestly. 

“I understand you want to add Hulu Plus to your service” Oliver calmly stated. 

“No, I believe my charges are excessive and I would like to change my service,” I pleaded.

 “You would like to add services to your package,” Oliver proclaimed. 

I was in a “Tower of Babel” loop! My only potential escape was to offer multiple pleas for human interaction. Finally, a human took over the chat function and perused my angst ridden communication. 

“I’m here to help, but I need to ask you a a few questions. What kind of entertainment do you like and how many devices will be on the internet?” 

Having been a veteran of prior aimless Cable Service queries, I politely asked for a reconsideration of pricing for the service. One hour had passed in my efforts already and when we were on the precipice of talking money, the chat abruptly ended. 

“You are not authorized to negotiate price on this account and you must call our Service line, goodbye.” 

The telephone queue serenaded me with easy listening tunes as empty minutes passed. A service representative interrupted my torpor, cheerfully asking how he could help. I summarized my case, explaining much lower rates for TV and internet in other areas from other providers and my desire to remain a loyal Cox Cable consumer. 

“I understand your frustration and I’m here to help you,” 

The same questions were asked— from the Cox script— eroding my patience and taxing my silent mantra. The minutes passed and ultimately, the  ‘cable to irked customer’ or ‘anger stage’ was in full force. 

“As a loyal and responsible customer, we can offer you a special rate. Doing some quick math, I calculated a $5/month reduction.” 

 Two hours into the beginning of my quest, I was as hot as the sidewalk outside my door.

 “Let me speak with your supervisor,” I insisted.  I was hoping to get to someone with authority who could respond as I moved from the anger stage into denial and bargaining.

 Calming music played in the background as I waited for the supervisor.  My managerial contact sounded like a bartender with a   marriage counseling background. I was assured that the litany of participants I had been with the past few hours were just doing their job and  I would ultimately receive fair treatment.  Nothing was going to change as the conversation proceeded and I decided to bring out the defining statement: “ I am going to cancel the service.” 

 “If you cancel your account you will need to return your 4 cable boxes.” 

“Wait,” I stammered, “I only have three TV’s and three cable boxes. I never received a fourth box and would have no use for it.” 

“We have an invoice from three years ago that we shipped you 4 cable boxes to your address and have charged you 4 cable box monthly rental fees for the past 3 years,” the manager insisted with a tone of authority.

 “This was an obvious error, I said, and I want a refund for the excess box charges for the last 3 years.’

 “Our invoice is the document we make decisions from. Cox is not   responsible for its delivery to you. If you did not receive four boxes, you should take this up with your home owner’s insurance company.”

 “So I have paid a monthly fee for 3 years for an outdated piece of technology that I never received and you are refusing to remove the charge?”

 “If you only want to pay for 3 cable boxes, you will have to return the 4th box or pay for its replacement.”

 By this time, 3 hours had elapsed since I started my ordeal.  I was clearly  moving through the depression stage. It was time to cancel and change providers. I scoured the internet for Scottsdale internet providers and regretfully found my answer. Cox had a virtual monopoly in Scottsdale. Their only competitor had a worse customer score. Checkmate, game, set and match, I thought, as I folded my cancellation strategy and sheepishly accepted the $5 dollar/month saving and agreed to pay for a ‘lost’ apocryphal cable box charge on my next bill.  Ultimately, I was now in the acceptance stage.

Could I abandon television and the internet for books?  Perhaps board games with the family and spirited discussions could be substitute entertainment? No! The pull of watching Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy in the Sonoran Desert was too strong of an urge. Maybe someday T mobile can outfit the Saguaro with cell towers and bring me QVC and C -span outside the Cox universe. In the meantime, I will contact my insurance company about that ‘lost box.’ I’m sure I’ll have better luck with them.