[JAZZ MUSIC PLAYS] [a heavy door closes] [dog paws walk across a hardwood floor] [a garage door opens and closes] [a dog drinks from a water bowl] [pitter-patter as the dog moves towards us] [microphone rustling, tapping] BAXTER: Is this thing on? [more rustling, scratching.] BAXTER: Testing, testing. One-two-three. OK...Looking good. Hi, My Name is Baxter… [clears throat] BAXTER: Hello, my name is Baxter… [changes voice] BAXTER: Hello, my name is Baxter… [changes voice] BAXTER: Hello my name is Baxter... [deep breath. dog tag jingle.] BAXTER: OK, this is harder than I thought...Anyway, my name is Baxter. Lately, I’ve been feeling very...frustrated by the constant breakdown in communication between me and my human. It just seems that everything I say just gets lost in translation. Like I say words but all that comes out is... [incoherent dog whining] BAXTER: And I need an outlet to speak my mind I guess...To have some sort of self-preservation so I don’t feel like I’m just barking endlessly into the void. Oh yeah, I guess I should pause – [laughs] In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m a dog. Woof. [dog barks] BAXTER: I’m what you “hew-mans” would call a “rescue.” I was “found” by the side of the road in a drainage ditch somewhere outside of Memphis, Tennessee. [sound of cow mooing] But just so we’re clear. I didn’t need no savin’. I just have a really bad memory and couldn’t remember where my house was. Sorry, Virginia. Blame the squirrels. [Squirrel chirping] BAXTER: Not that it matters, but I’m a “Schnauzer mix.” Basically, the kind that looks like it has a permanent mustache. Think the male lead in Lady and the Tramp. I’m the tramp. Though not literally. I’m the hopeless romantic type. And I’m actually not into Ladies. Although, you could say, I am born to run. Heh. [He plays cheesy drum-cymbal sound effect.] BAXTER: I’m in my late twenties, which to you folks I guess that would be four years old? Like most dogs, I was separated from my family when I was a baby -- Yes, you can step down from your vegan, composting, “I don’t use straws anymore” moral high ground now -- so I don’t really remember my mother or my siblings. Mostly just the smell of...Pee. [sound of dog peeing] I was the smallest of my litter, which you humans love to affectionately call the “runt,” but we don’t see it that way. It’s a common misconception, but we’re actually the more docile, friendly, and well-behaved babies. Let’s just say my siblings would never cross their paws, if you know what I mean. [annoyed dog sound] BAXTER: So, my human, Erin, picked me I ASSUME for such reasons, and not because I was also the cheapest -- which I have FEELINGS about. But I think it was a chemistry thing more than anything else... [harp plays] BAXTER: I was drawn to her, and her faint smell of peanut butter, Doritos… [chip crunches] BAXTER: …and ironically, hot dogs. Not that I would suggest eating those things together. Bad times have happened. [dog whimpers] BAXTER: She, too, was small, like the size of a large McDonald’s-fed child. [child slurps soda] BAXTER: I fit nicely in the crook of her forearm. She rarely picks me up now, but thirty-seven pounds later, I can’t say I blame her. Except, wait a minute! She is the one who feeds me, so...Maybe I can! [awkward laugh] BAXTER: So, anyways. What was I going to say?...Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes. I love my human. She tends to all of my needs. She gives me belly rubs. [scratching sound] BAXTER: Takes me for walks. [dog panting] BAXTER: Lets me sleep on the couch. [dog snoring] BAXTER: Buys me noisy and surprisingly durable toys to play with. [toy squeaks] BAXTER: And she rarely takes me to the vet which I appreciate. But... I NEED to get the-- [BEEP] BAXTER: --out of this house. I need to be where the other dogs are! I need social interaction! I need NEW SMELLS! Like...Just to give you an idea of the hell that I find myself in. I’ve been sniffing the same sad shred of Amazon cardboard all week, thinking that maybe, just maybe, it’ll smell different this time. But spoiler alert, it doesn’t! [sighs] BAXTER: I guess all those times I showed you my special tennis ball that we ONLY play with at the dog park were just in vain. [tennis ball drops on floor] BAXTER: Oh! I forgot, you only communicate in Bumble DM’s...And how’s that working out for you? Still home alone with me on Friday nights, so you do the math. Is it wrong to just sniff a few new butts every once in a while? [dog sniffing] BAXTER: You know? You can learn a lot about someone from a good butt sniff. And don’t raise your eyebrows at me, like you’re some prude who can’t handle hearing the word “butt.” Don’t worry. It’s not that kind of podcast. I’m just trying to explain our plight, and yes, it does involve sniffing butts. It’s our version of a handshake. We don’t have opposable thumbs, so here we are…If Erin comes home one day and finds me dead on the cheap linoleum floor, I’m just stating for the record that it started as a slow death of my dog soul due to a lack of smells. [laughs at himself] BAXTER: As you can see, I’m in a dark place...Back to the reason why I’m here -- borrowing the microphone that my human uses to host her true crime podcast from her bedroom closet -- is to say that if you, too, suffer from blank stares in response to your cries [dog whimper] BAXTER: or if you’re just going through a ruff time... [dog barks] BAXTER: Just like Randy Newman, you’ve got a friend in me. I’ll be sharing a bit of my own experiences, as selfishly cathartic as that is, to hopefully shed -- heh -- some light on the issues facing your four-legged friends. If you’re a frustrated doggo like me, a woke human, or just a really fricken bored cat I guess… [cat meows] BAXTER: This podcast could be for you. [squirrel chirps] BAXTER: I’m on--Wait--What--What--Squirrel?! Squirrel!? There’s a squirrel...Those damn acorn smugglers! God! Thinks it can just come across my lawn anytime it wishes. [sighs] BAXTER: Sorry, the squirrels are rampant, one might say. Anywho, I am on social media, though I can’t say it was ever my choice, but if you’d like to get in touch with me and not my owner...AKA my hashtag forever single doggy momma...AKA the lady who will never share her chips with me...You can send me an e-mail at: baxter-at-inner-monodogue -- that’s like “monologue” but spelled with a “d” instead of an “l” -- dot dog, spelled traditionally as you think. If you liked listening to this show, please subscribe wherever you listen to podcasts. I’m Baxter in Los Angeles. See you next time. Now...How do I turn this thing off...? [microphone rustling] [dog barks] [JAZZ MUSIC PLAYS] VOICEOVER: This podcast was produced by Storiel Entertainment. It was written, directed, and edited by Ariel Bond, and performed by her brother – Hey that’s me! - Noah Bond. Our music is by Ketsa Music in the UK. Special thanks to the collaborators on Free Sound for providing our sound effects. Thank you for listening. [JAZZ MUSIC PLAYS]