I was looking at Pete the Aussie the other morning as he gazed out the bedroom window to the back yard. Watching the yard seemed really important to him and I found myself wondering what he was thinking. And for a moment, I wished he could talk.
Then I realized it’s a good thing that he can’t talk.
If he could, it would probably be something like, “Give me a treat, I want a treat, gimme a treat, treat, treat, Oh how I want a treat, give me a treat, pleeeeeeeease!”
Or, “Open the door, open the door, I gotta go outside, open the door, open the door, open the door, open the door, open the door, open the door, open the door, open the door, I gotta poop, open the door, open the fucking door. Hey, open the door.”
This kind of prattling would drive me nuts. But it would be even worse if Pete started jabbering libtard talking points, going on about man-caused climate change, or how Republicans are racists, or that Sarah Palin and George W. Bush are stupid and evil.
Yes, that would be much much worse. I can respect a dog who has normal doggy concerns, but not one who worries about carbon footprints, Walmart, and the rights of jihadists. I love my dog, even to the point of excusing the occasional accident on the carpet, but I couldn’t bear to think of him like that.
So I’ll be content just to wonder what’s on his mind.
1 comment:
Your love of good writing comes from within. Very nice work! Please keep going.
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