Do I Smell like Sausage?

Working at the downtown farmers' market for my internship on Saturday brought two things to my attention. One, dogs are really quite repulsive. Two, sausage seems to have a mystical power over people. Apparently a penchant for buying local goes hand in hand with loving dogs. I will never appreciate the latter -- dogs, that is. Maybe I'm the weird one, but I had a hard time watching "Swayze" sniff another dog's butt while the two owners discussed the sniffee's "prance." "Beautiful dog. Is she a show dog? She almost prances when she walks," Swayze's owner says. "Oh, does she prance? I've never noticed," the other owner responds (though I have a feeling she probably practiced the prance before they left that morning). I seemed to be the only one hugely disgusted by the deeply engaged butt sniffing that was going on between Swayze and the prancer. I was almost more disgusted with myself, though, because I caught myself with my hands pulled up in front of me like paws -- unconsciously mimicking the dog's prance for its owner.
I also watched three dogs pee on the tree in front of my booth without their owners even noticing. The only explanation for the owners' complete disregard for the poor tree was that they were hypnotized by the scent of sausage coming from the booth across from me. Siegfried's sausage, to be exact. Bratwurst, weisswurst, polish, wienerschnitzel. I think the smell of sausage must have some sort of magical power over people because virtually every person that walked past that booth couldn't help but order a plate of wienerschnitzel or a bratwurst sandwich. I'm convinced that if I dangled a string of linked sausage in front of people, I could get them to do anything I wanted. Ridiculous, you say? You didn't see the way people stopped dead in their tracks when the scent hit their noses. When I saw the employee pull a 4-foot strand of linked sausage out of a plastic yellow bucket, I half expected a crowd of people to lunge at her -- growling, drooling, and snapping at the links. Or I at least expected a dog to break loose from its owner and run away with the sausages in its teeth -- soon to be chased by every other dog in the park, like I'm sure I've seen in numerous Disney "made for TV" Saturday afternoon movies. Unfortunately, it wasn't that exciting. I just watched one person after another belly up to a sausage sandwich for breakfast (I was gone by 11:00). Some added mustard, others sauerkraut. And I just sat there among stacks of magazines, wondering "am I gonna smell like sausage?"