My dog Chauncey (Cha for short) is a good dog. Oh she’s no Lassie, but everywhere I go she goes. Everywhere I sit she sits. Everything I eat she eats.
Sometimes when I’m eating steak, she’ll sit on the back of the couch and rest her head on my shoulder pretending she’s one of my heads — hoping I’ll forget which mouth to put the food into. She actually thinks I won’t notice. Silly dog! It never works . . . OK, it hardly ever works.
My dog, Cha, isn’t Lassie, but she is nine pounds of fur, eat and bark. She’s crabby to just about everyone. Especially sweet little children who try to pet her. She’s been known to bark a pit bull into submission — as far as she thinks anyway. And she can eat virtually anything in three bites or less.
A psychic would quickly realize that Cha has an odor where her aura ought to be. It boggles the mind to think about how many calories it must take for her to generate that kind of a cloud.
You can shampoo Cha till the cows come home (they never do by the way) and when she’s all washed and all dried and all puffy like a tuft of fluff — well, that’s the best time to put your nose close in — but you have to be careful– the first three-quarters of the whiff is going to be fine and dandy –but the last one-quarter of the whiff is going to be pure PU.
"No."
"Well when are we gonna get there?"
"Never."
Now, even though Cha has never done anything Lassie-ish — like calling attention to a house being on fire or calling attention to a blind person being on fire — she did once keep barking until I filled her food bowl.
And did I mention that when I walk she walks, when I sit she sits, when I stay she stays? I did? Well, did I also mention my dog, Cha, could double as a toupee?
And that alone makes her better than Lassie . . . in my humble opinion.
Until next time . . . I love you