The Other Coast by Adrian Raeside for April 27, 2022

My dog was a dog, and I never wanted her to be anything else. Except maybe a reindeer.

Back when I was working at summer camp years ago, a woman who was visiting asked us to get a drink for her dog. We told her that there’s a hose out back, to which she haughtily replied, “My dog does NOT drink from a hose!” and stormed off in a huff.

Pride cometh before the fall…

Love the dog, not the ancestry.

Blazer’s big thrill was to roll in well-rotted deer poop. Argh!

A dog is a dog is a dog! They don’t care about your stupid papers!

You go Trixie! Show her what real dogs do!

Best to just roll with it. :)

Years ago I sold a couple a bag of organic fertilizer for their yard. The next day they brought back what was left of it because their little dog had gone “crazy” rolling in it and eating it, digging in the yard. They had never seen their dog act that way. I gave them a refund, it was their first dog. Sort of felt sorry for the pooch but gave all of the staff that day a good laugh.

So she’s paper trained.

Oh. Come. On. Who can resist a rotting deer carcass?? Amirightamirightamiright huh,huh,huh???

This very morning my “with papers,” beautiful, red sable German Shepherd female brought me a present. She laid it oh-so-delicately at my feet on my nice, clean tile floor. Then elegantly waited, I think, for my “thank you” and a biscuit. The present appeared to be a very smelly skeleton of a possum or racoon that had been picked over thoroughly. As they say, “It’s all in the presentation.” Well, thanks, Pepper.