The DOG PHONE

I've been asking people, "What is the best phone for shooting quick video clips and stills of the family doggie?" Few people seem to actually like their phones for taking action photos, but everyone is excited to brag about the convenience of having video or stills or both, and also to show their most recent dog photos -- or child photos, or both.

One fellow, on Ventura, coming out of Starbucks to rejoin his golden retriever mix, had the new Droid; and he was bragging that the shutter speed was much better, but this is the same brag of iPhone 4 users. A woman about to enter Von's, while gabbing enthusiastically into her new Sprint EVO, succumbed to my survey near the cookie aisle. She claimed everything was better, megapixels, shutter speed, and Sprint service. Of course, all the respondents immediately followed their brags with self-deprecating complaints about phones versus real cameras, probably to temper their self-consciousness for displays of childish glee and enthusiasm during the initial question about the value of their phones for shooting the family dog or children. Everyone I spoke to had a dozen to a hundred photos of dogs, kids, friends, and many had a half-dozen additional video clips of the family pets.

It's funny how quickly everyone's enthusiasm turns to these critical and denigrating comments, anticipating some invisible opposition. I'm clearly not a threat -- I'm running around like a kid, myself, more enthusiastic about the toys (ahem, sorry, TOOLS) on the streets of Studio City than the actual owners. But every person I queried had a tale to tell, and every person had attempted a series of pet or child photos recently. Are the journalists slamming the new technology actual owners of these phones? It seems, those who use them, have to put them down, the carrier is inefficient, the coverage is spotty, the images are often blurry, the models have to be still or in good light. (Whores are sick of sex, but they have more stories to tell than non-whores.)

But more recent phone owners have the kindest and most enthusiastic things to say. Those without a phone-camera will never know the joy of grabbing a shot of the big dog bringing the leash to poppa, a big tongue lick across the baby's face, an unexpected humping of the huge stuffed rabbit from Disneyland, or a turd-eating moment that wasn't apparent until screening their last dog park photo album. "Oh, my...GAWD!"

If it's any comfort, given the press onslaught and PR nightmare this summer, most of my inquiries have landed upon owners of iPhone 3Gs, or 4. All of them tell what they love about their phone, followed by taking 2 or 3 incoming calls with relish. Then, oddly enough, they throw in that AT&T is a problem. Some people love their phones, but their images aren't so great, so dragging out the images to show-and-tell is a let-down moment, proof they are correct about less than stellar stuff to display. Those with Blackberries have the least impressive collection of photos, probably because they are grandfather clock devices without the artifice or artiness of a grandfather clock, just the appeal to really old mental muscles. Blackberries seem to begrudge the visual world we're in, great for old school texters who need the tactile touching of a real button, great for emailers who like the quick content retrieval. Not so great for video and photo lovers.

Mostly, though, my survey yesterday and today revealed an impish twinkle in every phone owner with a leash in the other hand. We love our phones, but we seem to get embarrassed about it after a few minutes, and then the supposed remorse comes out. What do you think? Do people really regret their phone shortcomings? Or is the hang-up that we are embarrassed to be enthusiastic?

(I think we like things but aren't in a culture where liking things conveys smart and sophisticated, the way that hating our things does. Frankly, I adore my antique iPhone. And I think my buddy's Droid has a very cool look and feel. Why not just enjoy our toys openly without shame? Our dogs would, if they had phones...)

Tell me what you think about your phone, and why you think we need to keep slamming these amazing toys. It's beyond my wildest dreams what my youth would have been like had I been armed with one of the modern marvels.

Just a-walkin' the dog...

We're not neighbors anymore in America, certainly not in the sense we used to be neighbors in this country.

When I was a boy, we had a strong middle class, a luxurious lifestyle, solid economy, plenty of leisure time, and children, unaccompanied by nannies or parents, ruled the open spaces of the neighborhood. People who lived next door rarely rang the bell to come in. There was a knock, followed by "Hello?" We were neighbors, and there was time to be neighborly.

In that mythical time, when I was a tiny human (in the 50's and 60's) if my family left town, which we did each summer, a neighbor would watch our house, walk our dog, get the paper, turn lights on and off discreetly.

My dad, also, had university students who would house-sit, as well, and they would walk the family dog, feed the fish, and, in my peculiar case, put maggots in the lizard cage as well dig worms in the backyard and feed them on a stick to the alligator. (Herman lived in the Museum of Science in Boston until he was close to thirty-seven years old! I gave up the pet alligator when I was thirteen.) I can still picture that poor Divinity School student, struggling as he was with all the ideas challenging his faith and testing his morality, digging in the dawn in his professor's back yard for long worms to gather in a jar and feed to an alligator as part of his kiss-ass for credits regimen. That was yesterday's dog walker.

Today, Studio City, unlike the Cambridge of my youth, is buzzing with working people who have less -- often little -- down time for kicking back, mowing the lawn, caring for kids, walking the dog. Leisure time is down. Working hours are up. As the economy slinks, the need for hard-working moms and dads to work longer and commute longer distances has increased. Less time for family and leisure time means less time for neighbors to walk our pets. They're also busy.

Lots of moderately successful people bought houses in the 80's and early 90's in Studio City. As things got tighter and investments proved weaker wellsprings of lasting support, they took on additional work to supplement their retirement. Or they simply reversed a phasing-out of employment plan, and began to return to offices for consulting or acting or participating in things they would have otherwise surrendered. And so, the place they picked for schools and comfortable pace began to get squeezed by pressures the whole world felt.

What is bad for the goose is good for the dog walker. There are a plethora of dog walkers and dog-walking companies in Studio City today, ranging from the big franchise businesses, like Fetch, associated with PetCo, to little one-actor-with-down-time-and-rent-to-pay independent operators. Some businesses are licensed, some are bonded businesses, some carry other features like grooming, pet-sitting, house-sitting, etc. There is a range of businesses, offering a range of services and a range of breadth of services. All of this can be confusing. How do you choose?

I'll create a chart in the next week, which will show the different types of dog-walking businesses and their plusses and minuses. Yes, there are some advantages to using a family-owned, independent business as well as the obvious bundled and price advantage of using a corporate cluster product, like those offered by Fetch/Petco.