Soon Taboo…To Tattoo…Your Cat, Your Dog, and Even Your Hog

I think everybody in this country should be aware that another American bastion of Liberty is being attacked by the US Government. New York is once again the dreaded keystone state that is going all out to take away another God-given right that has been established for centuries between a man and his beloved barnyard buddies.

Recently the New York governor and legislature have addressed the problem (as they see it). Up until now it has been perfectly legal in almost every state for good citizens (referred to in news reports as, “Narcissistic animal lovers”) to have their dogs and cats forced to endure permanent, decorative tattoos and body piercings. Pet pigs are bound to be next in the coming up mix.

New York Governor Andrew Cuomo is biting at the bit for the chance to sign legislation that will abolish the tattooing. Who is going to speak for the animals?” How can Governor Cuomo be so self-assured as to think he can decide whether my cat wants twelve nipple rings or not. He must be crazy.

You just wait and see. It won’t be six months before Governor Nathan Deal of Georgia is going to have spies out on every farm in our beautiful Southern state just peeking in barn doors checking our hogs for tattoos. I don’t know about dogs and cats but I know our pigs love their tattoos. If a rattlesnake bite can’t hurt a pig, a tickle from a tattoo needle may be more pleasure than pain.

Anyhow, we scattered all our tattooed sows and boars in the swamp bottoms along the Oconee River. We’ve got so many tattooed pigs in the swamps that many meth-manufacturing dope-heads are leaving the bottoms in droves. The sight of so many technicolored pigs have them going into hallucinatory convulsions.

It’s really sad. I can barely stand the thought of some swamp rat shooting one of our beloved pet pigs and then frying the pork skins down by the river. I keep having a bad dream that ends with an old swamp boy feasting on a multi-colored tattooed fried pork skin. The tattoo reads “Porky Loves Petunia” inside a big red heart.

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I’m getting a butterfly on my right cheek and a bracelet on my arm with “Frank Sinatra” on it.


Don’t Let Your Dogs See You Naked.

dog on motorcycle

This is animal abuse of the worst kind. You wait until I tell the SPCA what you’ve done to me. All my friends ride in big pickup trucks, SUV’s and at least compact cars .Look what you’ve got me in. You could kill me like this!

dog at computer

I’ve even got all their passwords. They keep muttering them over and over between curses. You should see what he’s been watching on YouTube and you won’t believe who she’s been private messaging.


Are you a dog lover? Do you have a dog or two around the house? This should be happy news for you if you love your dog.

Many of you chat with your sweet puppy everyday but are you sure you know what the dog is saying to you in return?

You’ll soon know what Rover thinks about what you’re saying and you very possibly may have the great opportunity of having him tell you himself.

Scandinavian scientists are working on a design of special earphones that can be snapped to your dog’s head. Snapped is just a figure of speech. I don’t think they actually implant snaps in a dog’s head but you get the picture.

They are analyzing waves, patterns and electronic signals emitted by the dog’s brain and supposedly they can determine if the dog is slightly melancholy, deeply sad, grieving uncontrollably or uproariously happy.

Soon dogs will be transmitting their brain waves into computers that can transform the electronic signals into real words. You will be able to understand your pet’s needs immediately. This is wonderful. Could life with old Spot and Fido be more perfect? Won’t it be wonderful that we will know exactly what dogs are thinking and their thoughts can be interpreted by computers and the animals will be able to voice their concerns and converse with us? Won’t this make it a more wonderful world for all of us?

dressed up dog

I guess you think this is pretty funny. Just remember who’s eating snacks under the table when you have your poker buddies over. I might have to drop a line about how I catch you cross-dressing every night.

Oh, but wait. Let’s back up and give this whole idea a little more thought. Do you really want to know what your poodle is thinking? What if you have the girls over to play bridge and your poodle innocently says to you, ‘You know Mildred, you have the worst breath?’ The dog doesn’t know any better. Who ever taught manners to a dog? And to think you get this horrific insult from an animal who delights in licking her own fanny. I wouldn’t be surprised if the poodle has worse breath than you do.

imagine having a cocktail party and you find one of your guests sitting on the floor in a back bedroom talking to your two schnauzers and the dogs are telling her how bad you look without any clothes. Can’t you just hear the dogs snickering and giggling over your jiggling rolls of fat and that big wart on your left fanny cheek that’s shaped like the state of Rhode Island.

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Just give it serious thought. Don’t ever let your dog see you naked and forget about ever, ever talking to your pooch. Your talking dog could define the most embarrassing moment in your life. Don’t do it.



How Aunt Sukie Lost Her Mule, Otis

Aunt Sukie was my mother’s Great Aunt and this story was passed on to me from my dear Mother so I have no choice but to accept it as the whole truth as my Mother was a truthful woman but I am mindful of family stories and how they sometimes take a strange life of their own depending on which family out-law is repeating them.

Sukie and her husband Ess Tee (S.T. for short) lived near Calabash, North Carolina. Calabash is almost in N. Myrtle Beach, South Carolina and it is famous for its seafood and the way it is fried in a light coating of flour and cornmeal dipped in milk.

Uncle S.T. had long since passed on when Aunt Sukie lost Otis. Had Uncle S.T. still been around, Otis would probably have had a longer and much happier life but things are the way things are and a long happy life for poor old Otis was not to be.

As the story happens, Otis took seriously ill and there seemed to be a gastrointestinal problem that involved stomach bloating that was causing Otis no end of pain and suffering.

Aunt Sukie called the local vet who had just got back into town from another call and he had a sick dog on his operating table so there was no way he could get out to see Otis any time soon.

He told Aunt Sukie to give Otis a big dose of mineral oil and, of course she said, “How?” He said, “Use a funnel.” She said, “What if Otis bites me?” He Said, “No, no, no Sukie. The funnel goes in the other end.”

Aunt Sukie could not find a funnel but in Uncle S.T.’s sportier days, he had fancied himself quite a fox hunter and there was still a lot of fox hunting paraphernalia around the house. She found his old fox horn with the lovely red tassels still hanging from it.

She took it to the barn and inserted it in the proper orifice just as instructed by the busy old vet, She reached for the mineral oil but, you know, Aunt Sukie was old by then and she was about half blind and she was especially nervous about violating Otis’ privacy with what all she was having to do to him.

She reached for the mineral oil and in her haste she snatched up a pint of turpentine. With one swift and deft movement she loaded old Otis up with probably the worst liquid she could have chosen to doctor him. Turpentine is an organic solvent and no animal alive should ever have it applied to the delicate tissue at the rear end of the body.

Otis gave one loud torturous snort and reared up on his hind legs. He bellowed like a beast on fire and kicked out the whole east side of the barn. As the turpentine began to really take effect, the horn began to blow. Otis ran like a prize winning racehorse toward town with that horn blowing and the little red tassels blowing in the wind.

There were a number of old fox hounds around the place that soon gave chase. They were in “Full Cry” as more hounds joined in.

Soon Otis came to a small draw bridge that spanned an inland water way. As he approached with horn at full blast, the bridge tender mistook the sound for that of a boat seeking entrance to the waterway. The bridge tender raised the drawbridge and Otis and all the dogs plunged headlong into the stream.

The dogs swam out but Otis was done for. He drowned and his carcass had to be dragged out with a wrecker from town. I don’t know that Aunt Sukie ever missed Otis that much but there is another sad aspect to the tale.

The bridge tender had been running for sheriff but on election day he only got eight votes. Nobody wanted to vote for a man who couldn’t tell the difference between a boat blowing its horn for him to raise the drawbridge and a mule with a fox horn stuck up his ass.

By the way, they say Calabash was the little town where Jimmy Durante had dinner once with his first wife and she liked the name of the town so much that it became Durante’s pet name for her and after her death, Durante would close his acts with “Good night, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are.”

I don’t know if that’s true either but I think I am pretty accurate in saying that Otis the mule did not give a damn about the bridge tender’s lost election or Mrs. Calabash’s whereabouts. Otis would have liked to have died with a little more dignity and a much cooler rear end.




Talking Dog in Athens, Georgia. Do Your Dogs Talk Back?

In Athens, Georgia – This weekend for thirty nine bucks you can see a fellow by the name of Tod Oliver perform with his dog Irving, who is billed as “Irving the Talking Dog.” Tod and Irving will be on stage at the UGA’s Ramsey Concert Hall. If you are a dog lover, I know you will want to go see Tod and Irving.

By the way, Tod Oliver is a ventriloquist and there might be some trickery involved in Irving’s vocalizing. If you go see Tod, you can be the judge of whether old Irving can speak for himself or not.

Now the article I read was written by Karah-Leigh Hancock in The Athens Banner Herald.¬† I don’t know Karah-Leigh Hancock but I suspect a woman with a hyphenated name probably has a dog and she probably talks to her dog. I’ll bet Karah-Leigh is no kin to my old friend Rose Hancock because Rose and I come from a generation and a kind that does very little talking to dogs unless, of course, they are Georgia Bulldawgs and they can really talk back. Take it from me, I have never met a Georgia Bulldawg who could not talk back, and with great volume too.

Kareh-Leigh raises my level of suspension about her style of reporting and Tod Oliver’s true ambition in life from the get-go. She says, right off, “Did you ever wonder what goes on inside a dog’s head” My answer would have to be, right off, “Not ever!”

She quotes Tod Oliver as saying, “I didn’t care about getting paid. I cared about making a good living.” Now, she misquoted that boy or his thoughts along the lines of, “Where is my next meal coming from,” are so convoluted that I can only believe he has not really been talking to Irving the Talking Dog. I feel one hundred percent sure that Irving is always totally concerned about his next meal and all the meals after that next one.

I think Tod probably does understand that “Getting paid,” and “Making a living,” are synonymous. He did not look anorexic in the picture they had of him in the paper.

So you be the judge. Do you really need to see a guy who has a dog that actually talks back to him or can you live on the faith, like I do, that dog lovers I know who are always talking to their dogs can hear the dogs responding?

That’s my excellent reason for saving the thirty nine bucks. All my dog-owning, dog-loving friends speak to their dogs. I am convinced the dogs’ owners can hear the pets replying to them. I often hear the loving owner repeat what the dog has said and it all makes perfect sense. I don’t think I need to hear Irving the Talking Dog’s voice. I know dogs can talk. I think it is wonderful that so many people have brilliant, intelligent, and wise four-legged friends who can so easily console their owners without vocalizing or using sign language. ESP works just fine between owner and pet and if it works for them, it certainly works for me.

I do draw the line at kissing the dog or in any way allowing the dog to kiss me or lick me on the lips. Dogs have absolutely no modesty and shame when it comes to licking their own bottoms. They even lick the bottoms of dogs they don’t know and to whom they have never been properly introduced. While most owners consider a kiss or lick on the mouth from their dog to be a loving kiss, I suspect most dogs do not really love you that intensely and they are giving you a taste of the old back door out of malice and spite.

Just be sure your dog really loves you before you let the dog French kiss you.