Thursday, November 11, 2010

Man's Best Friend

Ever since I was a small boy, I wanted a dog. My parents wouldn’t get one for me as they reasoned that they would end up taking care of it. They were probably right.

I was an adult when I finally got Mr. Peabody, and it was by accident. I was walking down the street, and as I passed some trash cans, I heard some whimpering coming from one of the cans. I looked inside and there was the cutest little beagle puppy I had ever seen. It was love at first sight. Little Mr. Peabody was so happy to get out of the can, that he couldn’t stop licking my face. I quickly went to the local pet store and got some puppy chow and other puppy supplies.

After we returned home, Mr. Peabody made himself right at home. I soon realized that Mr. Peabody was no ordinary dog. Within days, he had toilet trained himself and was bringing in the morning newspaper.

It was the following New Year’s day when I realized how special Mr. Peabody was. I had been partying all night long, and I had forgotten to unplug the Christmas tree lights. By New Year’s Eve the tree was pretty dried out, as I had put it up right after Thanksgiving. The lights caught the tree on fire, and it was starting to spread to the drapes. I was sound asleep as the smoke started to enter the bedroom. Mr. Peabody started barking and jumping on the bed until I finally woke up. We got out the front door just as the fire department was arriving. I never found out who called 911. The 911 operator said it sounded as if someone was barking Morse Code. However, she’s sure she was mistaken. In any case, Mr. Peabody saved my life.

Several years later I decided to move into a condo as the house was getting to be too much to take care of. I looked at least twelve condos in the same area. They all allowed pets except one, which happened to be the one I liked. There was no way I was going anywhere without Mr. Peabody. After doing a little research, I found that I could call Mr. Peabody a service animal. A precedent had been set at this condo by another resident who claimed he was so depressed that he needed a dog. The State of Florida had almost stumbled over themselves in an attempt to be politically correct. With no regard for the other 999 residents who had moved to this condo because it didn’t allow pets, they had allowed the first of soon to be many “service animals.”

I can ignore the rights of the majority as well as the next guy, so my best friend and I moved in. My adjacent neighbors don’t mind Mr. Peabody as he only barks if there is a fire, someone breaking in, or if their TV is too loud.

I take Mr. Peabody everywhere. He really likes our boat. In no time at all, he got his sea legs. He has such a sense of direction that he has warned me on several occasions that the anchor was dragging. Mr. Peabody has given new meaning to “man’s best friend.”

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