ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ °°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°MAN'S BEST FRIEND°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°Marty Weiss ßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßß 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...." -end- Copyright (c)1991 Marty Weiss