A Dog's Life

Beware the dog who thinks! --Baxter

Hello, you may not know me, but I am BOBO.

Accept no tawdry imitations (no matter how cute they are)!!

My owners think I'm a dog. Maybe I am and maybe I'm not. But even if I WAS, there are some dog secrets which have yet to be revealed! For example, did you know that the closest thing to DOG is . . . well, let me spell it out for you.

Get the picture? No? Use Netscape 2.0 or higher! Or heed the words of Ambrose Bierce who defined the dog as "a kind of additional or subsidiary Deity designed to catch the overflow and surplus of the world's worship."


Anyway, I was out the other night, having a few drinks with the boys . . . you might say we're real . . .


So, like I was saying, we were hanging out, sucking down some milkbones in that fastidious way dogs have, when we all got to thinking. What if our lives were just dreams? Not the kind of dreams that make you wake up with a loud whimper! But the kind that Jung talks about, where you feel the ancient blood of your ancestors course ecstatically through your veins! The kind of dream where you feel a basic connection with ALL your noble brethren . . . from the proud athletes . . . .

To the humble submissive pet.

For even the crotch-sniffing, lap-piddling servant for life has his place in the . . . the . . .

WHOA! HEY! You! You big blue dog! Get outta here, you big bully!

WHEW! I chased him off REAL GOOD! DANG! You just never know when
a big dog's gonna pop up!

So to resume my plastic Hegelian dialectic on the racial unconsciousness of canine culture....I think that dogs haven't yet been given their due as sentient creatures in this mad, unfeeling world. Consider, for example, the noble rescue dog! Or one who has devoted his life to public education! Is he not selfless in his devotion? Dauntless in his courage? Insatiable in his appetites?!!

Why then is it that humans must amuse themselves by scoffing at that which they don't understand? Like the bumbling anthropologist who stumbles upon an alien culture whose signatives and symbols he fails to grasp, there are those who misunderstand our secret rituals and malign as us less intelligent than they. Ah, the brutes!

Why do men hate us, we adoring companions who bring joy to even the most fragile of human lives? Can we not rise above our petty prejudices, learning to accept that . . .


Gee. Now where was I? Oh, yes. I was exploring the ontological ramifications of imposing a one-dimensional anthrocentric bias upon the rich cultural diversity of canis familiaris.

To which I say . . . let ME give you the real poop!

(Pretty please? It's tasty! Really it is!)

See, it's like this, pal. We have all come across insensate men who, upon walking into a forest, see only the forest and not the trees.

I'll ask you: what manner of creature could be satisfied by the mere illusion of a thing? I'll tell you, too! A creature who has never quivered before the majestic works of a divine power who has given the world a beauty of which only poets speak. And possibly some whacked out environmentalists, but let's not open that can of meat. Unless you'd really like to, in which I do hope you are planning to invite ME over, because there is one divine imperative which RULES my life:

Where was I? Oh, yes. I was about to share with you some verse which has brought tears to many a bright and beady eye...not to mention songs to our generous hearts. For if ever it could be said of any creature, surely it must be said of my kind that we love not wisely but well.

For hear my declaration, oh world! I am BOBO! Hear me howl! I shall resist the liars and scoundrels and con artists who would lure us in with false promises and expose us to lethal dangers. I stand alone, unafraid to nip at the heels of those who would cruelly rob us of our precious bodily substances and eradicate our vital marks upon this earth. Those who cannot bring themselves to provide us with even the basic necessities of puppy pleasure.

And finally, repeat after me the Doggie's Prayer.

Give us this day our our daily bone.
Yea, though we lift our legs in the valley of dead trees
We count on folks like you to save us from harm
And to feed us vast quantities of doggie treats..

Amen. And Adogs.

Read Women Who Run With Dogs, excerpts from Mommy's new dating guide, WHERE THE BOYS ARE (Avon Books/Cosmo, 1997)!

The woman who is really kind to dogs is always one
who has failed to inspire sympathy in men. --Max Beerbohm

Copyright © 1997
No Paws For Alarm Productions