Labor Dog

It's Labor Day, which means the Devil Dog in back of World Headquarters has been barking since dawn. It must be some kind of terrier. He sounds just like Bailey, Plotnik's brother's dog, a yip crossed with a yap amplified over a 25 cent speaker with a blown cone.

At least Bailey only barks when she wants something, or she's frightened, or surprised, or when Schmeckl puts her down, which doesn't happen all that often.

Neighbor Devil Dog barks at wind. Sun. Anything.

The Great Ducknik and The Great Plotnik have somewhat different theories on how to deal with this little f___er. Ducknik doesn't want Plottie to say anything, or complain, or do anything that might be seen as rude.

What could be ruder than letting your sweet little Annoyance Machine keep barking? You think she's cute. She's not cute. You're just deaf.

Now, Plot and Duck have 30 people coming over in a few hours. So Plottie decided to deal with it his way. He slipped downstairs, walked over to the fence that separates Doggie Hell from World Headquarters, and with love in his heart, preached -- ok, shouted -- a short sermon. It went like this:

"Hey dog! It's Labor Day! Take the day off!"

A human voice answered: "Sorry."

The dog hasn't barked since.

The moral to this story, my children, is that people who own yappy dogs stop hearing the yap. They hear "love," where everybody they know hears fingernails on chalkboards. This lady was sitting right there as the dog was going bonkers. She probably didn't even notice.

Thus endeth today's lesson.

Let us turn to Page 37 of the Immortal Songbook and sing to the departed and wonderful Hal David:

"Raindrops keep falling on my head
But that doesn't mean my eyes will soon be turnin' red
Crying's not for me
Cause I'm never gonna stop the rain by complainin'
Because I'm free
Nothing's worrying me."