Novelist | Singer
The reason I started this story is something B said to me. She said, “You could be famous!” This is usually when she’s talking to other people about me, but she also talks to me, and I’m a good listener. I’m pretty sharp and can remember the names of lots of things, at least what the people call them. Not what I would call them. For example, my chicken? A and B call it a chicken. I would call it “aromatic punching bag” if you ask me, but it’s more useful if I know their name for things.
I have heard that I’m handsome. Hm! Okay, I’ll be handsome. That sounds useful. Also, I’m a fun guy and believe in that famous Will Rogers saying: “I never met a man that I didn’t like.” I think he meant person. I think women like me more, but men do too. I find that if you just walk up to someone (dancing banana butt, of course) and say hello, and “My name’s Sailor, what’s yours?” that they generally return the greeting and show their teeth. When people show their teeth, it’s a good thing. If all goes well, they are very happy to meet me, and when it goes really well, I sometimes get a treat. But I don’t stay long with that person, unless they are B’s people as well. Then I’m extra charming and smile a lot and give them a wet bump with my nose. I think it’s this approach that makes people like me because they always laugh and screech a little when I nose bump them.
During my puppyhood, B always used to say that I looked insane when I showed attention and perked my ears. I guess a few stray brown hairs would pop straight up between my ears. People would laugh. Now some of you people know that when we dogs get a laugh, we will tend to repeat that action, because a laugh is as good as a treat. Sometimes, it’s better. Laughing makes people feel good, and when people feel good, they do all kinds of fun things. Sometimes they pass it along to another person, and sometimes, it means a treat for the dog who made them laugh. So there. Great game to play.
Sometimes being friendly backfires. There’s a certain kind of boy dog that finds my approach unacceptable. I’ll never forget the first time.
It was a big black dog, sort of like the mastiffs in my puppyhood home. Wheeee! I said, and jumped up on him. Well . . . he whirled around with a loud vicious growl and held me to the ground by my neck. Scary! I was being friendly! From then on, I have been more cautious and usually can sense whether a dog will be nasty. Sometimes those big tough dogs hump me. I’m not a fighter, so I just lay there and let them do their thing. Actually, I feel sorry for them. It’s so much more fun to be nice, and you make more friends. I have loads of friends, and a girlfriend to boot. I’ll be telling her story in the next episode. Until then—Go with Dog, and you’ll be happier!