By Peppermint Patti
JOTR Columnist
I’m a wolf, Sophie — who woulda known it?
So are you.
It’s right there, in black and white.
My two-leggers told me so.
Must be true, right?
Actually, Sophie, just because two-leggers say a thing, that doesn’t make it true.
Case in point: Do you believe you’re a wolf?
You’re a black lab, Sophie, and if your two-leggers were worth their salt, if they had any common sense, they’d take you into some marsh and let you scare up ducks. Then they’d blaze away with their fire sticks and let you swim out to pick up the duck or goose or maybe another two-legger that they assassinated.
But instead, they let you languish in this little yard where your sole amusement is talking to me through the chain-link.
Not exactly wolf-like, I submit to you, Sophie.
Nor do I feel very wolf-like, either, despite The New York Times, which says scientists have traced our DNA (Dog-Not-Android) to wolves in the Near East ten thousand solar sickles ago.
Do I look like a wolf, Sophie?
Too bad I don’t have my papers to prove I’m a bichon.
My current two-leggers think this is funny.
They laugh and call me a “faux bichon.”
Fake bichon, my tail!
Some joke.
Tell you what, Sophie, they’ve got it easy and don’t know it.
If I were REALLY a wolf, they would truly be sorry.
They think I’m, well, less than perfect when I loot the wastebasket for old chicken bones.
So what if I drag soggy, grease-encased paper towels across the Persian rug?
This is nothing compared to what I’d do if I were a REAL wolf.
Believe you me, Sophie, then they’d respect me.
There’d be no more chit-chat about a “faux bichon”!
As a wolf, Sophie, I’d have license.
License to be!
To totally trash their house.
And then some.
Those leather couches I gave the chew test?
A little white stuffing sticking out the holes I made?
Nothing compared to what Patti The Wolf would do.
Why, I’d chew that entire cow carcass of a leather couch and when I was done, I’d drag all that white fluff through the house, then get started on the second couch.
Garbage on the Persian rug?
How about garbage on their bed?
Garbage in their pantry.
How about poop on pillows?
That’s just for starters, Sophie.
If they want to joke about Peppermint Patti being a wolf, they better look out.
Be careful what you wish for, Sophie.
Patti The Wolf would drum common sense into their heads.
Wolf ancestors, indeed!
It’s baloney, Sophie.
But don’t try to change the two-leggers’ minds.
Not worth the trouble.
Besides, maybe it gets us some respect.
Let the lies sleep, dog!
Shhh!
Behind the shed!
Possum!
