Under the glare of the studio lights, Alpo looked into the camera lens at his audience of millions. “Our discussion topic tonight on Sniff This! is one our sires argued about, their sires argued about, and all the sires before them argued about. Which is more appropriate, to lift your right leg or your left leg when scent marking?” He fidgeted in his seat as if just mentioning the subject made him want to get up and go lift his leg on the nearest upright object, the tripod holding the camera. “On our panel of distinguished guests are, Rex from the Daily Squirt and, on the show for his first time, Sparky from the Left Leg News, and for the female perspective we have Sadie, who is promoting her latest bestseller, Nip and Snarl: How to Keep your Sire off You. Welcome, all.”

Setting aside his notes, Alpo twitched his whiskers at the tripod leg nearest him. “Age before beauty, Rex. Let’s start with you. Where do you stand on this touchy topic?”

Rex shifted his flat bulldog butt in his seat and also glanced at the tripod where it touched the floor, as if the topic made him too want to pee on the nearest upright object, but he remained seated, blowing air through his jowls in a huff. “Well it’s like this, Alpo. My father lifted his right leg. My grandfather lifted his right leg, and his father before him, and so on going back since my lineage began. It’s in our blood. It’s our tradition. To do otherwise just wouldn’t be right. It would be like entering a room rear end forward, or smoking a cigar with the burning end in your mouth. To do so would be rude and stupid. The ways of our elders deserve respect. Young studs these days have no sense of history. They have no memory of the trouble that lifting the left leg has gotten us into. They think it’s new, that it’s trendy, that it makes them cool and fashionable and that the girls will love them for it. It’s a proven fact that one’s aim is better when lifting the right, but when their aim fails they think if they just keep lifting their left leg higher and higher that eventually it will work, but it doesn’t, and instead they leave a giant mess to clean up. This has all been done before, and though I hate to say it, it will all be done again long after we’re all gone and buried, but I take comfort in knowing that my progeny will be holding the line against the leftist by proudly lifting their right leg every time they feel the urge to pee on something.” Rex finished his statement staring hard at the tripod leg closest to him, his eyes bulging slightly, making him look more like an enormous pug than a bulldog.

Nervous that Rex wouldn’t be able to remain seated much longer, Alpo moved the camera’s attention off him by going to his next guest. “Sparky, how do you respond to that? Do you think you’re doing something new? Are you getting the babes by lifting your left leg? Or is it just old troublesome behavior proven wrong many times over?”

Sparky recrossed his Yorkshire legs as he squirmed in his seat. He could barely concentrate for the sight of that tripod, but he pulled it together and responded. “Before I answer, Alpo, I’d just like to thank you for having me on your show and to acknowledge your courage in giving me such a renowned venue as Sniff This! to express my views. It must be difficult, especially for a well known right-legger like yourself, to share your program with a leftist of my renown. In fact I can tell from the glares I’ve been getting since entering the studio that it has been difficult for such a right-leg network like Coyote News to have me on the show.”

Alpo hated being upstaged. “You exaggerate, Sparky. Coyote News is well known for being fair and—”

Sparky cut him off. “Just because you keep repeating it doesn’t make it true. This network is about as balanced as Rex is over there. He couldn’t lift his left leg if he tried. And if for some freak reason he did, he’d fall over like a two-legged tripod. Have you seen him walk? He’s so far right it’s like watching a dog drag a bum leg. Talk about affectation.”

Rex was having a hard time not flashing his canines at Sparky. The little Yorkshire terrier was really getting under his skin but he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of revealing how much. Instead, he stared at the tripod. He’d show the little twerp how it was done when the show was over.

Alpo snapped him out of it. “Rex!” he barked. “How do you respond?”

“What’s to respond to? He has nothing to support his policies, so he’s resorted to name calling. I really expected more from him, but I guess I should have known better. These left-leggers are all the same.”

Sparky jumped in. “I haven’t called him any names. Listen to him, just more right-leg lies. Will they never stop?”

Alpo hated these kinds of topics on his show where one side was pitted against the other. They just caused further animosity and deeper entrenchment on both sides. It stirred up the viewers though, and that was good for ratings, and it was his show’s high ratings that brought in the big advertising bucks. Flea Be Gone didn’t advertise on just any show. “Sadie, why don’t you shed some reason on these boys. Is there any hope for some form of resolution?”

Sadie was relaxed in her chair, amused by the three males’ furtive glances at the tripod legs. The audience must be wondering what they kept looking at. But she could also sympathize. She was pregnant with a very large litter, making her have to pee much more often than usual. “Well, Alpo, I lift neither my right nor my left leg. It would be nice if these boys would spare us their vitriol and simply squat, but their masculinity is so wrapped up in the braggadocio of their rhetoric that I’m afraid we are doomed to listen to it for as long as males are capable of learning to speak. The only promise of hope is that the increasing level of stupidity coming out of their mouths is a sure sign that they are losing the ability to do even that, and we’ll soon be left with only their grunts and growls to listen to. And for all the sense they’re making, they might as well be doing that now.” She closed by grunting and growling in a mocking manner, causing chuckles from the females amongst the support crew behind the camera.

“There you have it, folks,” Alpo said. “The answer to the age old debate is … Just squat! Until next time, let’s all give squatting a try.”

“Like hell I will,” Rex grumbled as the red light on the camera went dark.

“Is that camera off?” Sparky asked the dog behind it, who nodded that it was. “It’s about time. Dog, I’ve got to pee.” He hopped off his chair and strutted toward the tripod.

For an aging, overweight bulldog, Rex could move fast when he wanted to. “Oh, no you don’t. I’m first on that tripod,” he said, shoving the small dog out of the way with his massive head and a full display of his teeth, which weren’t nearly as large as he thought they were. “You little cat-lover.” He was so flustered, that when he lifted his leg on the tripod, he was totally unaware that it was his left leg cocked in the air, and the Yorkshire had to pee so badly that he resorted to his puppyhood and squatted where he stood.