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??????????????????????????MAN'S BEST FRIEND?????????????????????Marty Weiss
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Oliver, my Black Labrador Retriever, and I were alone,
watching Mr. Ed on a late night cable station. At a commercial
break, Oliver lifted his head and said, clear as a bell, "Do we
have any of those dog bones that remove tartar?"
As surprised as I was to hear a dog talk, I calmly managed
to answer as if he spoke all the time. "No," I replied, "but
I'll get some tomorrow."
"While you're at it," he continued, "pick up some Snausages
doggie snacks. The French poodle in their commercial is really
cute."
Making the most out of this extraordinary opportunity, I
asked him some questions. "OK, Oliver, but first you have to tell
me a few things. You've been my dog for some time now, and I
still don't understand your behavior."
"Fire away," he said, wagging his heavy otter-like tail.
"Almost every night when I let you out in the back yard, you
chase a rabbit that runs under the fence before you get within
ten feet. You weigh one hundred pounds and aren't very fast. Why
do you chase the rabbit when you haven't a prayer of catching
it?"
"Because it's there. Why else? Did you ever stop to wonder
why that stupid bunny waits around, knowing I'll chase him? Let
me put it another way - why do you play tennis when you can't get
to half the shots on the court?"
"Well, that's quite different. It's a sport and a healthy
activity. I enjoy the chall.... Oh, now I understand."
Oliver gave a big yawn, then vigorously scratched his neck.
"Did I ever tell you how much this collar drives me crazy? I can
never scratch underneath where it really itches. And another
thing, whenever I walk around, the sound of my dog tags banging
together drives me crazy. How would you like to hear that
clinking noise day and night your entire life."
I reached over with both hands and gave him a good
scratching and rub on his neck - under his collar and around his
ears. "Sorry, but it's the law. You have to wear them."
"Ahhh," he groaned contentedly. "When you rub my ears like
that I can forgive you almost anything."
"I'm glad you enjoy it, Oliver. It makes me feel good to pet
you too. May I ask you a question about your personal hygiene?"
"Sure, if you're not crude about it. Go ahead," the dog
replied, sniffing his right paw. "I've never tried to hide
anything."
"Yes, we've noticed that. Why was it so difficult to house
break you? It seemed to take forever for you to learn about going
outside and not on the carpet or the potted plant in the
hallway."
Oliver stood up and vigorously shook his entire body,
sending out a shower of black, shedding fur. "It's your fault,
not mine," he answered. "I kept waiting for you to show me how to
use that cold, white chair thing in the small room everyone else
uses. One day while you were at work, I learned how to push the
shiny handle with my nose and make the water flush, but I never
could figure out those two hinged covers - one down, one up, both
up - it was very confusing."
"Never mind. You're doing fine now. It's been months since
you've had an accident."
Oliver walked to his water bowl and lapped away for several
seconds before speaking again.
"I remember that. It was last Memorial Day. You and the
family left the house about 10 AM and didn't come back until
almost Midnight. Just what do you think I am, a miracle dog? I
waited hours, until I couldn't wait any longer. At least I used
the room with the tile floor instead of the den carpet."
"Yes, well, I guess we did leave you alone too long. I'm
sorry Oliver."
"My gosh, the way you humans carried on that night. You'd
think you had never heard of Bounty paper towels and a little Mr.
Clean."
"I said I apologize. What more do you want?"
"Besides," the dog continued angrily, "I heard your mom brag
about you being completely toilet-trained when you were two years
old. Big deal! I learned by the time I was a four-month old
puppy."
"Alright! You win. I'm sorry I brought the whole thing up in
the first place."
"Can I ask you a question now?"
"Oliver, it's *may* I ask you a question now. If you are
going to speak, the least you can do is to use proper grammar."
"Don't get technical. Just tell me this. What did you and
the wife mean when you talked about neutering me? I didn't like
the way that sounded or the way you sort of twitched when she
said it. What's that word "neuter" mean?"
I really wasn't prepared to discuss this topic with Oliver
now or at any time. "Forget it,"I answered. "It's nothing very
important."
"OK, if you say so, but that word gives me the chills."
"Don't worry about it, Oliver. One thing, though. I wish you
would be more careful where you stick your nose when visitors
come to the house. What you do is very embarrassing to them."
Oliver seemed to think a moment before answering. "Look," he
replied, "it's all a matter of geometry and angles."
"What are you talking about?" I responded.
"Think about it," he said. "I'm what, about two feet tall at
the shoulders, and my head is another foot or so higher? So, when
I look up at a stranger, my nose is... well, it's where the rules
of geometry are going to put it."
I shook my head in comprehension. "Yes, I can see that now.
I never thought about it from that angle, er... point of view."
Oliver stretched his body and looked over at the TV set.
"It's getting late. Mr. Ed is over and I'm not in the mood to
watch a half-hour car wax commercial. Let's call it a night. OK?"
I turned off the TV and the floor lamp. "OK, pal. Let's go
to bed."
Oliver hesitated at the steps. "Just a minute. Before we go
to sleep, how about opening the back door and letting me take
another try at that darn rabbit? I'm sure if I fake left with my
head and then make a quick zag to the right, I should be able
to...."
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Copyright (c)1991 Marty Weiss