If Dogs Were the Ruling Race

I’m shameless. I’ve stolen… no let’s lighten the blow on myself; I’ve borrowed an idea from a mail I received the other day. It had pictures of dogs. But they were no ordinary pictures. It had dogs doing all the things that we do.

Imagine a world ruled by canines!

We would be fetching newspapers for them. They’ll throw the Frisbee over some god-awful fence and we’d be obliged to run after it. (Maybe we could make the Frisbee boomerang. But we wouldn’t have the IQ to do that would we? So we must fetch. Maybe it would turn into a flying saucer and fly away with the despicable canine that flung it. Maybe… OK. I’ll come of my wishful thinking.)

We’d eat chow out of a doggy bowl. (Do you want to call the bowl something else? I’ve run out of inspiration in growing dread.) Imagine! We’d eat only when we’re fed. We’d even be paraded at shows. But here the up side is that we can pee in the tub while we’re being shampooed before being groomed for the show. Now that’s a relief, wouldn’t you say?

But woof! (I couldn’t help that…) We’d be expected to bite the pants off postmen and salesmen. Urgh! Would you relish that? I can’t go on. I must weep now, if you’ll excuse me.