08-058
HAIR OF THE DOG
Entering into the
exhilarating world of commerce and confronting the lofty aspirations and
tenacious ambitions of my fellow toilers in the sandbox of big business, it
seemed to me the best course of action would be to obtain a dog. The world of fast food is one of precision
and detail, and after long days of filling special orders, I need the calming
devotion of a canine companion to soothe my sawtooth nerves upon returning to
the peace of my den.
I entertained the idea
with my usual approach of common sense and intelligence, and when the dog of an
acquaintance of my niece’s neighbor produced a litter of puppies of some
uncertain lineage, I agreed to take one home.
They assured me the mother was a purebred Dachshund. After much research, during which I studied
the animal intently from both sides, left and right rather than in and out, I
could only suppose that the father was Daffy Duck.
In retrospect, I can
see that there are some few avenues I left unexplored at the time of
implementation of my plan. For instance
the inside and outside of the animal came to have much more significance than I
had supposed. If, in the future, I
plunge once more into the pool of unrestrained companionship, several items
seem worthy of consideration. Hereto
are recommended considerations when getting a dog:
Bladder size. Since my canine knowledge is on par with my
knowledge of the mating habits of Rhesus monkeys, I was sadly uniformed when it
came to the personal habits of smaller dogs.
Indeed, the idea that a bladder could morph in size, growing larger on
rainy days to provide relief from having to risk soiling dainty paws in muddy
puddles is as bizarre to me as the invention of the self-flushing toddler.
Lineage. The charming doe-eyed companion I took home
changed personalities immediately upon entering the domain which was previously
my own, if somewhat disheveled, monarchy.
She sniffed once in a condescending manner at the small pillow I adopted
for a puppy bed, rolled her eyes, and settled in on my great-grandmother
Polly’s goosedown comforter to order room service. Had I known than I had adopted, not a dog, but the long-lost
princess Anastasia, I would have prepared more carefully for her arrival. Certainly embroidering the pillow with her
family crest would not be out of order.
Employment. It occurs to me now that if I could obtain a
canine companion on the order of one of Disney’s Dalmations (Mr. Disney
arguably has enough spots to share), or perhaps Cujo, who is, even now, wolfing
down royalties for Mr. King, my fry-bagging days would be over, and we would be
happily rolling in piles for the rest of our days.
In the meantime, I’ll
make the best of the situation. Since
the lady sleeps quite peacefully for entire days at a time, she’ll do quite
well as a doorstop.