Interviewing the Dog

A happy cartoon dog with a bone in his mouth.

There have been a lot of changes around our house. The kids have all gone to college to take their talents for chaotic housekeeping, high decibel level vocal expression, and emotional roller coaster rides. Now the newest member of the family is one of the four-legged kind. It was a good trade.

You ask, how did we pick this particular dog. The answer is, of course, I interviewed the dog. You wouldn’t want me to make a blind decision on this, would you? I mean if I am going to interview a secretary who sits in another room for 40 hours a week; wouldn’t I do the same for someone I am going to share my home with and who likes to lick my ears when I sleep?

I still remember that interview. Yes, I remember it well . . .

“Come in, come in. Have a seat.”

“Uh, thanks, but I am not allowed on the furniture yet. You know how it is.”

“Oh, uh, sure, well make yourself comfortable anywhere.”

“I’ll lie here at your feet. People like that, I’m told.”

“Uh, that will be fine. Now let’s see, you are . . .er. . .”

“I’m here to interview for the position of the family pet.”

“Oh, yes! I know why you’re here, but your name is . . . “

“Now that would be for you to decide, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh, I guess it would. You are right. I almost forgot. I was thinking of calling you Ignatz.”

“IGNATZ!?!? Are you kidding me? Whatever happened to Fido, Rover, and Prince? Now those were great names for us canines.”

“It is kind of a revenge thing. Brunhilda the Taskmaster got to name other  dog, (RIP) and she called her Rosie. I hated that name! I told her that I was going to name the next one. And she will hate the name that I gave you.”

“So this is revenge thing? Boy, did I put on my cute face and wag my tail, for this?!?”

“I will feed you well, and I am sure you will happy here. Besides those other dog names are so common.”

“Excuse me, but we prefer to be called canines, not dogs. After all, this is the age of political correctness.”

“O.K., I will keep that in mind, but if you get the position, you will be called Ignatz. We can call you Iggy, if that helps.”

“Not much! I will never be able to go to the litter reunion with a handle like that.”

“Now then, now that is settled, what special skills do you have?”

“Well, I was first in my litter in whining and sniffing, I can fetch a ball if it can fit in my mouth, and if you want your socks chewed, I am your guy.”

“Actually, I have enough trouble with socks. What else can you do?”

“Well, I can easily sleep eighteen to twenty hours a day, so I am available for naps to the whole family.”

“Is that all?”

“I am basically a lap canine, Doug. If you were looking for a working or hunting canine you need to interview some of my larger cousins. Besides, I have heard your not much of worker or hunter yourself.”

“Well, what do you like to do fun?’

“Well, I am alone and bored and there is nobody to throw a ball that I can fetch, I can always chase my tail. I like to roll around in really smelly stuff and when I am the center of attention and everyone is looking at me, I like to Lick my privates.”

“How charming.”

“Look, let’s get serious here. I have a lot of bad habits. I leave things behind on the lawn, I eat off the floor, and my breath can usually knock a buzzard off a garbage scow. But if you treat me right and show me some affection, I will be a loyal as any friend you ever had, and will protect you to my death, and will always be glad to see you.”

“Yeah, well . . . “

“When was the last time whined and wiggled their ass just because you walked in the door.”

“Well once or twice in my life my . . . Oh, never mind. That sound pretty good.”

“Good, then I am your man, . . . er dog, . . . er, canine.”

“Sounds good to me, when can you start, everyone is eager to meet you.”

“Eager enough to renegotiate that silly name?”

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