Downeast Dog News


By Don Kingsbury | May 02, 2021
Photo by: Chad Rancid May I interview you next?

Hello. This is Chad Rancid of “Who The Hell Cares?” Magazine.

Today, I have a very special guest for you. The first ever interview of Don Kingsbury- reclusive hobo genius behind the unstoppable juggernaut, “Two Salty Dogs Pet Outfitters.” Mr. Kingsbury was VERY clear: “We ain’t That Salty Dog thing in Wiscassett. That’s a groomer. We don’t groom no goddamn dogs. Jeezum.”

Mr. Kingsbury has been described as seclusive and unpredictable. He was also send home from the 3rd grade with a note from his teacher that simply said, “Donny is vituperative. We need to talk.” Looking up “vituperative” in the dictionary was little Donny’s first step in his love of the English language.

Mr. Kingsbury was recently thrust onto the worldwide stage when his 14-year-old Black Labrador Retriever, Maximus Gary wrote the first ever heist novel written by a dog.


And so, deep within Don’s underground, nuclear-safe, military facilities we met. I must also disclose that I was frisked, searched, disrobed, shaved, disinfected, body-cavity searched, and intense beams of ultra-violet light sterilized every exposed surface of my body. Then I waited over an hour before I was ushered into a nondescript foyer. There were no windows. It was impossible to tell how far below ground I was or what the time was. For a brief minute, I thought I was in the Orwellian Ministry of Love.

I was supplied with a black Two Salty Dogs T-Shirt and lime-green sweatpants with “BUTT” written on the rather large posterior. This caused Mr. Kingsbury no end of amusement.

I was led to a feast of local steamed mussels in a divine cream and curry broth with toasted sourdough bread, fresh-picked lobster claw with drawn butter, pepper and tarragon. We also partook in a thankfully small bowl of dog kibble that tasted like herring. I’m sure Mr. Kingsbury was testing my mettle as was the custom of mid-coast Maine pet-supply stores going back centuries. Mr. Kingsbury didn’t utter a single word, though he issued grunts of acknowledgment when food and/or liquor was set in front of him by what appeared to be a cadre of zombified hoboes. Shells, chunks of food, and other detritus cascaded from Mr. Kingsbury’s person in waves.

After the feast, we settled back with our cognacs into the overstuffed chairs by the fire. A mahogany box of Cohiba cigars was made available and we both lit one with relish.

It was then we began the interview in earnest.


Chad Rancid: Hello Mr. Kingsbury! Thanks for agreeing to our interview!

Don Kingsbury: [Surprised] What?!?!?!?!

CR: Mr. Kingsbury, I guess the question on everyone’s mind is why, after a very promising career at the Federal Reserve Board of Crunchy Outsides and Creamy Centers, did you decide to open a pet supply store?

DK: What the hell are you talking about?

CR: Here’s some whiskey.

DK: That’s a very interesting question, Eddie. I was abducted and probed repeatedly by illegal aliens just about every day I was with the Federal Reserve. It wasn’t the fun kind of probing, either. And remember, this was all before being abducted and probed was “cool.” When my insurance for probings ran out, I was discharged into a ditch of freezing mudwater, totally nude and heavily sedated. My first thought was, “My Dog, I need to get out of this ditch before I die.” I think I was in Ketchum Idaho.

CR: How soon after you clawed yourself out of that muddy ditch did you get your first dog?

DK: Seventeen years and five days.

CR: Incredible.

DK: Thank you.

CR: Can you shed a little light on your childhood years?

DK: I was born a poor Asian man into a middle-class Jewish family living in New Mexico. I didn’t see my first rainbow until I was three. I was abducted and subsequently abandoned by six different space alien species. It taught me a lot about what jerks aliens are. BTW- Aliens LOVE Dewars Scotch. They can’t get enough....


Read the fascinating conclusion here:

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