I had a dog, actually a dog for
my kids but you know how it
is with little kids. I got it;
I had to take care of it and so
I tried. He was a really cute —
half dachshund, half beagle
and I never won a discussion.
For fifteen years he had a very
strong personality and I didn’t
know squat about caring for a
dog so I didn’t do a very good
job, in fact, doing a very bad
job, and I can only hope that
when I reach the pearly gates
to heaven and, as a friend once
said, the little dog will be there
to confront me, I can only hope
he is more forgiving than I was
when he was our family dog
for all those years of my
continuing shame. It’s one thing
to mistreat a human, but a dog?
For shame, for shame, for shame.