Doggie Doins

by Spot
(Hinsdale Hooplah, March 25, 2015)
(Editor’s note: This is the first in a series of canine confidentials with our best friend Spot at the helm. He has promised bone-crushing adventures and snarling scandals while keeping on top of who is doing what to whom. Get the first word direct and uncensored from the doghouse. Excuse the typos please. It’s difficult to type without thumbs).
You may wonder why I was chosen to write this piece since there are packs of dogs that have a much more developed literary flare than I. Well, it’s all timing. The idiot editor of this website stopped by the shack the other day looking for my pork chop owner. He was desperate for animal stories and since I was just hanging out in the back of the International I decide to give it a shot. The dog may yet have his day.
Most of my dog friends are quite familiar with the print version of this newspaper through human interaction in paper training, threats, fetching but few have read the website.
Last weekend in Lake City a cute little Fu Fu got hitched to Scratch who claims German lineage but looks mutt to me. Fu Fu wore a lace-trimmed, finely tailored collar while Scratch showed up in a hounds tooth jacket and hush puppies. Fu Fu’s family from Dallas expressed dismay at their pet’s choice but since she will be giving birth in about three weeks, the family did not interfere with the proceedings.
After the wedding we all went to Restless Sprits for a drink only to be thrown out….Something to do with health codes. Fascists! We could have all been incarcerated due to that stupid leash law.
The garbage levels have tapered off after the summer tourists and hunters left. But there are still some treasures to be had. Yesterday a few of my buds and I found a couple of deer carcasses up by Windy Point and dragged them all back to town. Sometimes I think I just like to make a mess more than I like to munch on landfill treats. These wasteful humans are too much. They all throw unsorted garbage and then cry Wolf at the slightest provocation—only to sit limply by as a bruin overturns a monster dumpster with the minimal effort.
I hope all of you dog-loving flatlanders can make it up for our Annual Alpo Packer Celebration next week. We will honor an aging mongrel, named Rex, who claims to be a direct descendent of Alfred Packer’s dog named “Anthropophagus”. That mutt had more sense than some and stayed in Ouray during Packer’s dark journey in 1873. The festivities include the roasting of a leg of Spam. No cats.
Anthropophagus passed on minutes after Packer was indicted for murder. Most of us around here feel the entire trial was invalid and should have been declared void due to the absence of rabbius corpus.
Soon car-chasing season will be over and snow season will be upon us. Have you ever slept in the snow then jumped into a pickup for a ride downtown? It’s not so bad if the driver doesn’t stop at the bar and leave you in the back. And what if the water in your dish freezes? Give a fellow a leg up and thaw it out.
That’s enough for now. Just remember to look me up when you are in Lake City. If you can’t find me, just leave a scent and I’ll get back to you.

Filed Under: Reflections on Disorder


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