Yet another exciting adventure for the Potter pups. This time I convinced Hudson to take a bus south. I saw a show on gambling and wanted to try my luck at the craps table. Plus, I’d always heard the term “southern hospitality” and wanted to experience it for myself. What better way than a trip down south to the Atlantic City casinos? The casino idea came to me because I thought I might enjoy winning some extra cash. I even made a shopping list. It consisted of typical things a chap such as I would need: a tux, microwave popcorn, a new scarf, and three gloves. Only three because I need to keep my other paw free in order to use my iGadgets.
Early Tuesday morning, I packed a few PB&Js. I told Hudson to grab some sunglasses and overcoats for us, and we made our way to the bus station. We had some trouble boarding because we needed to sidle up to the type of person who would be traveling with dogs. I suggested we each find a sunglass-wearing passenger so onlookers would assume we were seeing-eye dogs and would pay us no mind. Easy, right? Wrong! It was raining so only Hudson, and I had donned sunglasses. Luckily, the bus driver got momentarily distracted, and we were able to board unnoticed.
Once in A.C., we tried our paw at everything—slots, blackjack, roulette, and craps. Something to keep in mind about the craps table…that’s not what it’s for. I know what you’re thinking, it’s green and plush like grass. Just trust me, that’s not what it’s for, we learned that when we got kicked out of the first casino. We went to a second casino and again headed to the craps table. Suddenly, some nimrod started complaining about dog hair on the table. Hudson and I ignored him and tried to dissimulate, that’s when we were rudely escorted out the nearest door. We didn’t really care because in the seventeen minutes we’d spent gambling, we lost all our money. Disappointed, we returned to the bus station to make our way north. On the bus ride back, I wondered why in the world anyone would get involved in gambling. Then it hit me! I was on the wrong end of the leash, so to speak. I needn’t play against the casino, I needed to BE the casino!
We got home, and I ran to the computer. After much research, I discovered that the fastest route to casino ownership, besides hitting the lottery, is to become a Native American. Somehow, I didn’t think that was an option for me, so I popped some corn, lightly buttered it and sat on the couch to watch an episode of “I Dream of Jeannie”. I enjoy it because Dad’s a former military pilot, and a major, just like Anthony Nelson on “Jeannie.” Watching the show is like looking in a window to Dad’s past life, which begs the question, did he find Mom on a beach? If so, was Mom, a beached whale? Coincidentally, this episode was the one in which Jeannie is curious about her past. That’s it! I would go on www.canineancestry.com and research my “Jeannieology.” A few hours later, I made an important discovery – I’m actually 1/225th Mohegan. Mohegan means “wolf.” It was so obvious. How could I have missed it? If I’d been asked to pick a tribe, it would’ve been this one. Since the Mohegan Sun casino is just next door in Connecticut, I shall petition the tribal council to become a member of their tribe.
Did you know that their members receive four out of every ten dollars gambled? Imagine my shopping list then. I could go on many adventures with that kind of dough. Better yet, I could even bake some bread with it, probably croissants, a nod to my French heritage. I’d really like to invent the “whole wheat “ croissant, do they exist? I could open a Native American/French fusion cuisine restaurant in the City. My dishes would have exotic names such as “Falling Rain Leek Pie”, “Wigwam Camembert” or “Dewdrop Crepes”. The food would be organic, vegetarian and low in sodium, fat, and calories. I’d call it “Le Chien Americain”. Michelin would undoubtedly rate it three stars. It would be off the charts in Zagat. I’m hungry just thinking about it. Time for more popcorn.