By Peppermint Patti
JOTR Columnist
As a whole, Sophie, the Duties of a dog are divided into three parts.
Personal Comfort.
Security.
Sleep.
Personal Comfort and Sleep are the same?
No, no, Sophie.
Sleep and Personal Comfort are not the same thing.
Let me tell you how Sleep works at our place.
Work is the operative term, Sophie.
That is because of the second of a dog’s duties: Security.
When I Sleep, it is with the Everlasting Knowledge that I am On Call and may need to Respond Instantly to an Emergency.
“Emergency” means many things.
Bush-tails.
Spike-tails.
Stripe tails.
There are those creatures with the monstrous egos and almond-shaped pupils, the ones that would as soon scratch your snout as purr at you and who require extirpation more urgently than spike-tails or brush-butts or stink tushes.
And most frightening and fur-raising of all are the two-leggers, the Bad Ones that might bust into this warm and snug kennel of the two-leggers.
The dog that can’t give the Alarm to any all of these Dangers Instantly and be prepared to Fend Them Off is not a dog, Sophie.
True Sleep, a restful sleep like what the two-leggers do, is not for us, ever, Sophie. We must constantly be On Guard to warn the two-leggers who so often are Off Guard that it disgusts me.
It is because of the two-leggers’ Negligence and Willingness to Fall off into Profound and Clueless Slumber that our lives are so much more difficult, because we are Required to Perform our Primary Duty of Providing Security to the Household.
It should come as no surprise, then, that we seek Personal Comfort wherever we can find it.
In my case, I have staked out portions of every Bed, Couch, Easy Chair, not to mention Rug, Carpet and hapharzardly-flung Sweaters and Pillows and laid claim to all of them as places of repose.
Woe unto the two-legger who dares to challenge my primacy in those places, Sophie.
One of the most preposterous myths prevalent among the two-leggers is the Legend of Home Ownership.
According to this Whopper, the owner of a two-legger domicile is whoever writes the mortgage checks.
In truth, the real Home Owner is that dog who Stands Guard Faithfully no matter the hour, ready to bare teeth, unleash a growl and bark to kingdom come and even mount an Attack Against Hopeless Odds.
That is the dog whose favor needs to be curried with the finest leftovers, not to mention head-pats, belly rubs and rhapsodies of praise.
No, Sophie, it does not occur often enough.
Nothing is fair in this world of the two-leggers, Sophie, but you and I at least know the truth.
Let them believe what they will.
If it makes the two-leggers happy, and they keep writing those mortgage checks, and getting us Dewormed, what do we care if they think they own the place?
