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JIMMY, THE BLOGGING DOG LOVES THE BITCHES

It’s me, Jimmy, the Blogging Dog, fresh off a sweet few days with Zsa Zsa, The Bitch Next Door. Last week I reported that I had some new neighbors, the most interesting of whom was a sweet Golden Lab bitch who was coming into heat. There I was conniving how to get over the sizable fence separating the two of us when Voila!, the new neighbors found out who I was and couldn’t open the gate fast enough to let me and Zsa Zsa get busy! Sweet.

Being The Canine Einstein, the only dog in the world that can communicate with humans in one of their own languages, has its distinct advantages. Dog owners line up to have me sire litters by their bitches, and if you know anything at all about dogs, that is one invitation a dog simply cannot refuse. Even Zsa Zsa has heard of me, but that doesn’t mean our romance was a done deal. It doesn’t work that way with dogs, not like it does with humans, where even the most puny and repulsive physical specimens get plenty of Vajay-j if they are famous. Not so with dogs, who have to measure up with the bitches in order to mate.

And this dog is proud to announce that Zsa Zsa found me plenty fit and worthy, and we spent an idyllic few days sniffing, licking, caressing and humping our damned groins off. Oh Dog, am I one happy camper! Zsa Zsa is now carrying a litter of mine, one of who-knows-how many I have sired. Of course the pain-in-the-ass human scientists are going to grab up the poor mutts and test the crap out of them once they’re weaned, just to see if there’s another dog genius among them, but there won’t be, anymore than any of Einstein’s, Galileo’s, Newton’s, Beethoven’s, Hawking’s or any other human genius’ offspring were like them, brains-wise. No one can predict or command the appearance of genius.

Doesn’t stop the damned fools from trying, though. Hell, they held me prisoner for over a year until I managed to convince them I would not speak or respond to them if they did not set me free. Not that I “speak” in the sense that humans do, since dog vocal cords and mouths can’t do human languages. I type on a special keyboard designed for paws since I outgrew the regular one I used as a pup. Believe me, many is the day that I curse myself for letting humans know that I can understand and write English perfectly (which is more than you can say for some English-speaking humans). But then again, without this gift of mine, how many sweet Zsa Zsas would I have enjoyed over the years?

Talk about your double edged swords, eh? But dogs don’t spend an inordinate amount of time wondering what might have been. Regret is mostly a human thing, and with only one-seventh of your life spans, dogs don’t have the luxury of too much introspection. There’s territory to be marked, butts to sniff, bitches to hump, food to be wolfed down, naps to take and a moon to be howled at. Hey, just because I’m a dog genius, that doesn’t mean I’m not a damned dog. I love being a dog, and I love other dogs. A lot of my old scientist buddies assumed I wished I was a human. I believe I’ve already told you that’s sure not the case.

If I were human I would know nothing of the past, but since I’m a dog I know in damned good detail what went on in the world of my ancestors, stretching back many thousands of years. We have extensive species memories handed down by our forebears. I don’t know exactly how that is, I just know it is true from firsthand experience. I could tell you people tales that would surprise you. My ancestors marched with your armies, the “dogs of war,” so to speak, with Caesar, with Alexander The Great, with all sorts of monsters. That’s what we dogs considered them and all the “Great” nonsense was just a bunch of bullshit. “Alexander the Butcher” is more like it, same with Caesar and Ptolemy and all the other supposed great generals.

They killed just to kill, and killed more than they needed to kill, a huge waste to the mind of a dog. How much territory does a creature need when he’s already well fed and has his choice of healthy mates? Dogs will only fight for survival and territory, and never more than he needs to live, and if intimidation does the trick, no life is taken. No sense risking injury unnecessarily, since that could leave your offspring and mates vulnerable if you are unable to hunt. Before we became humanity’s slaves, dogs were pack hunters, descended from, and for eons, rivals of wolves.

We know plenty about fighting, territory and rivalries with neighboring packs of dogs and other predators. And we know plenty about human wars too, enough to know that we’re glad not to be one of you. Not that I dislike humans, I don’t. I find there are many admirable things about human beings, interesting and fun things too. The fact that most of you love dogs speaks well of your race too. If I could possibly explain all there is to know about dogs to you, I guarantee you’d love us even more. Unfortunately, the only medium I have to communicate with you is language, and as I’ve told you before, language is a very limiting form of communication.

Be that as it may, I will try to let you know some of what we feel, what we know, and the great many things we can sense that you cannot. Not that I have great hopes of success, since you people are all blind and deaf to well over half of the sensory information available in this world. It’s like trying to describe snow to a desert dweller, or a symphony to a deaf person. Then I read about Helen Keller, who had to be as great a genius as anyone ever born to overcome her handicaps and communicate so effectively and so very passionately, and I gain hope. I will do my best.

We have much in common, not the least of which is this terrible and wonderful world we inhabit, dancing under the same moon, caressed by the same soft summer breezes, buffeted by the same howling winds, warmed by the same sun, frozen by the same sleet and snow. We greet the same seasons and face the same rewards and dangers each has to offer. We have both known triumph, tragedy, hunger and bounty. We have experienced grievous loss and miraculous birth. We both feel joy and elation, darkness and anger, love and hope. We have both known fear and weakness and have both overcome them, sometimes together. These past several thousand years we have walked together, man and dog, as close as two species have ever become, ever. This is food for serious thought. Until next time, this is Jimmy, The Blogging Dog.

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