Acquiring a dog may be the only opportunity a human ever has to choose a relative.
– Mordecai Siegal
Tails were wagging Sunday at the CSRA Humane Society Pet-A-Fair at Julian Smith Casino.
As one of the judges of the best pet costume (and other categories), I made many new friends, most of them four-legged and furry.
Congratulations to Mongo, who won the Best in Show competition among all the first-place winners, probably the only time I’ve ever been licked by a champion.
All the fun benefits the Humane Society, and if you didn’t make it, I’m sure they’d appreciate a donation: CSRA Humane Society Inc.; P.O. Box 14667; Augusta, GA 30919.
I felt at home because the room was full of people who love their animal companions as much as I love mine.
Speaking of my beloved little white terrier, when I returned home Sunday, he immediately seemed to detect the scent of another dog on my pants leg and reacted with hurt suspicion.
(It took about 10 minutes of ear scratching to get him back on my side.)
RAMBLE ON: While many local runners were rambling down Broad Street on Saturday morning, it was nice to see a group at USC Aiken for the Riedell Run, a scholarship fundraiser that honors the contributions of Dr. Margaret Riedell and benefits a student in USC Aiken’s School of Education.
I figured this would be a change from the pavement of Broad Street, and I was right. It was held on the university’s cross country course. You know “cross country”: hills, sand, wet sand, ravines, logs, hills, gravel, hills, more sand, small streams and hills.
I did not win. But I did not collapse, either, so I figure I’m still ahead.
(And I got to meet Dr. Riedell, an added plus.)
FUN WITH MATH: Jerry Turknett, of Martinez, reminds us: There are three kinds of people in this world; those who can count and those who can’t.
TODAY’S JOKE: Bill Wood, of Hephzibah, shares this one.
A husband and wife are on the ninth green when suddenly she collapses with a heart attack.
“Help me, dear,” she groans to her husband.
The husband calls 911 on his cellphone, talks for a few minutes, picks up his putter and lines up his putt. His wife raises her head off the green and stares at him.
“I’m dying here and you’re putting?” she says.
“Don’t worry, dear,” says the husband calmly, “they found a doctor on the second hole and he’s coming to help you.”
“Well, how long will it take for him to get here?” she asks feebly.
“No time at all,” says her husband. “Everybody’s already agreed to let him play through.”