LITTLE ROCK — OK, fair is fair.
Usually, I’m pretty quick to point out sheer stupidity on the actions of public officials - and to be honest, there’s little shortage of material.
But to be a true equal opportunity insulter, I need to point out something stupid I did this past week.
Well, stupid is a relative term.
I didn’t put a stun gun to a 10-year-old girl after she’d kicked me in the groin like that police officer in Ozark.
If you’re a fully trained police officer, old enough to drive a car, shave and carry a gun, and you can’t subdue a 10-year-old girl without the use of electricity ... perhaps being a police officer is not a good career.
Anyway, a friend who lives about three or four blocks from me recently found a stray dog.
Cathy, my darling wife (daughter of Endora) and I had several “discussions” about bringing a new dog into the Caudle household.
We have enough trouble hunting for food in the Caudle family pack without being slowed by an inexperienced pup.
So, I did what any red-blooded man would do - waited until Cathy was gone and skulked off to get the pup.
Getting the pup home was a little more work-intensive than I’d first suspected, though.
The pup wasn’t leash-broken, which meant I basically dragged a 16-pound fur ball of yelp for four blocks.
People were coming out on their porches to see who was killing a dog in front of their houses.
“New puppy,” I’d yell.
“What’s his name?”
“Dunno. Just got him.”
“What kind of dog is he?”
“Dunno. Just got him.”
Meanwhile, this dog is yapping with a verbosity that’s making the neighbors think Charlie Manson has escaped and is now going after dogs.
There’s really nothing wrong, he’s just scared of everything ... passing cars, parked cars, barking dogs, the curb.
We finally make it home and take him to the vet a couple of days later to have him checked out.
“Notice any problems with him?” the vet asked.
“Well, he’s got good lungs.”
The vet said best guess was he was a mix between a Germanshepherd and beagle, and he was in good shape.
But a buddy of mine and I tried to figure out exactly how a beagle and German shepherd carry out a courting ritual.
Did they meet at a dog parkand the other beagles dared one brave beagle to go ask the German shepherd for a date?
Or did all the German shepherds dare one of the other shepherds.
(Editor’s Note: The subject of the dare is something we’ll leave to the reader’s speculation.)
(Editor’s Note: The ribald nature of the section that was here is not what we objected to. It was the suggestion that dogs drink liquor.
We’re not that easily offended - after all, we run Caudle - but there was just something wrong with that. It’s hard to define.)
Anyway, we named him Dude, which was quickly changed to Duke by Cathy, my darling wife and daughter of Satan.
My buddy goes, “Wait. She didn’t want the dog, but she made you change the name on a dog she didn’t want.”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“So she’d shut the hell up. I’d rather listen to the dog’s yelping.”
“Been there. Done that,” he said. “How’s the dog doing?”
“About like the kids used to act,” I said. “We buy him a doggie bed and chew toys and he chews the tag off the bed that says, ‘Do not remove under penalty of law.’”
So, not only do I have a stray of questionable ancestry, after the label-chewing incident, he’s now a federal felon.
He’s gonna fit right in.
BOB CAUDLE WRITES A HUMOROUS COMMENTARY ON LOCAL, STATE AND NATIONAL ISSUES. HE IS AN EQUAL OPPORTUNITY INSULTER.
Opinion, Pages 5 on 11/20/2009
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