My little dog - a heartbeat at my feet.
- Edith Wharton
Here's my theory on dogs.
There are yard dogs, house dogs, rug dogs and bed dogs.
Here's how they're connected.
Most of us grew up with yard dogs in the days before leash laws when everybody had a dog or two roaming the neighborhood.
We didn't think much about it.
Yard dogs never came inside and lived off table scraps and whatever they could find outside. We didn't think much about that, either.
Sometimes yard dogs became porch dogs, or traveled as truck dogs. But they were still officially yard dogs.
Some people had house dogs.
House dogs were usually little dogs that stayed inside most of the time and ate dog food from cans. They didn't get out much, I guess, because their owners thought they might get eaten by hungry yard dogs.
House dogs used to be owned mostly by middle-aged women who had no children, but enjoyed the companionship.
Rug dogs are different. Almost always they were old yard dogs, who were rewarded for years of outdoor property patrolling with a spot of respected retirement on an inside rug. That was where they spent most of the day asleep, dreaming of their youth chasing rabbits. (You could tell if you watched them.)
Bed dogs were little house dogs who figured out that something with pillows was the best place to nap. It goes without saying that they are self-indulged by owners so lacking in human admiration that they have to spoil a dog.
Bed dogs might have used a rug once, but it was abandoned one night when they wandered into a bedroom and jumped up too see how the humans were sleeping.
They might have been chased off once or twice, but eventually they learned to leap without waking anybody, and on the bed they stayed.
I've gotten used to his snoring.
THOUGHT FOR THE DAY: They hold elections in November because it is the best time to pick out a turkey.
TODAY'S JOKE: An out-of-towner drove his car into a ditch in a desolated area. Luckily, a local farmer came to help with his big strong horse named Buddy. He hitched Buddy up to the car and yelled, "Pull, Nellie, pull!" Buddy didn't move.
Then the farmer hollered, "Pull, Buster, pull!" Buddy didn't respond.
Once more the farmer commanded, "Pull, Coco, pull!" Nothing.
Then the farmer nonchalantly said, "Pull, Buddy, pull!" And the horse easily dragged the car out of the ditch.
The motorist was most appreciative and very curious. He asked the farmer why he called his horse by the wrong name three times.
"Well ... Buddy is blind and if he thought he was the only one pulling, he wouldn't even try!"
Reach Bill Kirby at (706) 823-3344 or firstname.lastname@example.org.
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