Dog racing has come under more scruitiny over the past decade from PETA and the handle is way down.  I guess you could call the 1960’s through the 1990’s the ”Golden Age of Dog Racing.”  Due to online gambling technology, and states that love casino gambling revenue these canine cruisers are going the way of the beeper. 

I am well versed in horse racing, but less knowledgeable when it comes to dogs.  I like horse racing because as Grlfrnd put it,”There is a human element.”  Without humans involved, its really just gambling on a dog who feels like chasing a stuffed animal for 30 seconds or so on a given day.   

So why did I go to the dog track?  I went to the Daytona Kennel Club and poker room last week for a chance to play some cards in a live setting, and throw my money away on four or five dog races.  Also, probably because I am now a Florida resident.  I am altering my wardrobe accordingly and will own as many as five pair of white orthapedic shoes, seven pair of ployester pants and four plaid fisherman hats. 

A few regulars were painting a picture that dog tracks were the bees knees at one time.  Picturesque places where fine dining and wagering went hand in hand.  Locales where actors, muscians and local business owners rubbed shoulders with the average blue collar worker and his family. 

What did I see?  A place that was past its prime.  It was like looking at Carmen Electra.  You don’t know whether to feel sorry for her and give her a few bucks or high tail it out of there with the quickness.  The whole place was painted a neon green with some purple accents.  The locals looked greasy and they only serve pizza on the weekends now.  With that in mind I remember telling my crew “eating this hot dog is going to be one of the worst ideas I have had today.”  And I was right, but if eating that first one was bad, eating the second one was worse, and the warm draft beer was a close third. 

Don’t get me wrong, gambling is gambling (awesome) and I still had a great time until after putting my poker game on cruise control, I put myself out of the tournament with a questionable betting strategy.  Instead of going all in, I accidentally left a few chips in my posession.  The townie to my right sensed my weakness and beat me with just slightly more nothing than my nothing.  The annoying part for me was that I had 15 outs.  It was like a kick to the stomach……or maybe that was just the “all beef” hotdogs trying to escape their way out of my tummy.