By Peppermint Patti
JOTR Columnist
Can’t live with em, can’t live without em.
Right, Sophie?
One way or another, we’re stuck with our two-leggers.
For better or for worse.
But dog, there are two-leggers and then there are two-leggers.
Know what I mean?
Take my female tw0-legger, just as a for instance.
Without her, I’d still be in the Holiday Inn for mongrels where they had me registered as a “stray.”
It was my female two-legger who picked me out.
She saw something in me.
Well, no point being modest here, since it’s between us two and the chain-link, but of COURSE she saw my potential.
Smart cookie, that two-legger. Knew breeding when she saw it. Didn’t need kennel papers to know.
That’s a step up from my first owners, who paid the big price for me at the pet store and then got bent out of shape when I mangled their wastebasket. Well, I was after the bone from the beef roast, you know the kind, absolutely delectable, especially when they’re three days old. Such a smell! Impossible to resist.
Oh, Sophie, they said some awful, unretractable things then. Things about my personality as being “incorrable” and “untrainworthy” and not getting a brain till I’m two and how it was high time to “off” me.
Advice to two-legged dog owners: Don’t mention “offing” — you know, termination with extreme malice aforethought — in front of a dog and then stupidly leave the yard gate open.
Auf wiederbite, mes amis.
What, Sophie?
Don’t mix my lingos?
Hey, dog, I’ll masticate whatever words I like.
Hold on!
Tarnation, Sophie, there’s a flagtail on a low branch mocking both of us. Pay no attention, he’s out of reach.
Dog, but I’d like a bite out of his butt.
Hold on, I’m gonna race over there and yap him into the topyards.
Hoo-eee! Did ya see that, Sophie? Sent him hiking to the topgallants, I did!
Now, where was I?
Oh, yeah, two-leggers.
Can’t very well live without them. They pay the vet bills.
But it can sure be hard living with them.
Know what I mean?
