The Long and Short of It

Did you ever wonder how I got so smart? It was not from dog school, I can tell you that. My dog school days came and went without so much as a foil star, let alone a diploma.

The headmistress of my school was called Ronnie, like Ronnie Reagan, only she supposedly was a girl. For money she raised Rottweilers on the side. They are big. I think her Rottweilers were mean, too, and I do not blame them.

Every week we drove to school and took along little hot dog pieces as rewards in case I did everything Rap Master Ronnie demanded. The dog who had his lesson right before me ate Tofu hotdogs - no, I am not kidding. His person blabbed on and on about how healthy she was about everything, including prejudicing her canine companion and loyal friend for life against true, honest American hotdogs. Don't liberals have anything better to do? I guess not.

Anyway, Ronnie the "girl" dog trainer did not like me because I was willful. So what? Do any of her dumb Rottweilers have a blog? Can they even fetch the newspaper? I think not.

On what turned out to be my last day at dog school, after weeks of "Sit", "Stay", "Settle", "Now", "No speak" (This is making me sick), I could not take any more of it, so I "had an accident" in class. That is one of the quickest ways to get your point across I have discovered.

Ronnie came unglued and yelled at management that obviously I had to "go" really bad, and so we never went back.

My Valedictory speech to Ronnie's Dog School in Wayne, Illinois is this: "No speak!!"

That is so satisfying.