Inevitably whenever there’s a dog scene written into a TV show or a movie, the dog is usually killed off. It either gets shot, is ran over by a garbage truck, or dies from a rattlesnake bite. When this happens, we the audience, collectively sign…”Oh no….not Fido.”
Why can’t the writers let the dog live and still provide talented, significant writing, and clever twists to move the plot forward? Why do they lean on the same old sympathy crutch instead of, writing skills? “Duh?”
How many times have you seen the start of a movie or TV show where all are happy? People are in the park picnicking, there’s an ice cream truck surrounded by kids, old people are sitting on benches feeding the pigeons. All of a sudden, the camera follows a dog chasing a ball. A young, playful, male boxer dog. The camera moves with the dog and doesn’t cut back to any of the other scenes. The music mellows-down, and the dog is shown, running in slow motion. These are subtle hints that SOMETHING IS GOING TO HAPPEN.
Writers. For “heaven’s sake”.
Give us, the audience a break. We all know it’s not the rubber ball that’s fixing to meet an untimely demise…it’ll be the Boxer. The dog is going to chase the ball out into the street, will get hit by a truck, car, or something…and die.
How ’bout for a change…putting a nice twist to the story? Put your imagination to work. Earn your money. Work for it.
The bouncing ball hits a tree root sticking up out of the ground, takes a five foot bounce and smashes into the “behind” of a well manicured “she-poodle”, right in the midst of a dog doo what dogs go to the park to do, or poop “a la grass”. The chasing dog can’t stop in time, his foot lands in the middle of the poop, and he slides headfirst into the poodle’s owner, putting a poop print smack dab on the woman’s thigh, right at the hemline. The chasing dog’s owner, by this time, catches up to the boxer, grabs the dog’s leash, slips on the same pile of poop and falls backward..you guessed it.
All the actors are portrayed as being embarrassed except the boxer. “Fido” was merely irritated because his ball got lost.
Simultaneously both the she-poodle’s owner and the boxer’s owner, rush over to the ice cream truck, dragging their dogs behind them, looking for napkins, paper towels, or anything else with which to clean smeared dog poop off of one’s self. The line in front of the ice cream truck parted, sensing the emergency, and let the couple through.
Needless to say, the ice cream business came to a halt, as the couple stood to one side, unceremoniously wiping dog sh*t from their bodies. The she-poodle was still embarrassed, the boxer still irritated about his lost ball and the couple was about to forge a lasting relationship. You know what they say….”sh*t happens”. (“Wait! Wait! That’s not chocolate ice cream. On the other hand. GO AHEAD ON.”)