Fido is having the time of his life.
Every day is the finest time of his life, if you ask me, but even I would admit that this day ranks right up there.
He is reading his fortunes.
“Dog who pee on dog gets a leg up on the competition,” he intoned. Waiting a comedic moment, he then howled in glee.
Fido had received a box of dog fortune cookies in the mail. Who from? He doesn’t know. An admirer. But right there on the Chinese takeout box, was the label, “Kung Fu Fido,” made somewhere in Minnesota.
He gets to have one a day and wolfs the cookie as if it were never there in the first place. But he saves the paper fortunes in a small container. He figures it’s a better way to spend his time than watching post-season, Big Ten football, and he’s right.
“Something you buried will soon turn up,” the fortune cookie paper said.
“Gosh Fido, you’re not really the burying type.”
“I have my moments. Every morning I make a modified effort to bury my poop.”
“You don’t want one of your poops to turn up again,” I said.
“Believe me on this one. Got any others?”
Fido shuffled the papers in the bowl. There were about 15 or 20 fortunes in there. He closed his eyes and inserted his big red paw into it.
“It is better to be housebroken than heart-broken.”
“Well, I don’t really have a comment on that, Fido. Bygones and all of that. Got another one?”
“Another one? Hey hey hey hey!”
“Sled dogs go the extra mile.” Fido looked puzzled. “What’s a sled dog?”
“A sled dog works in a team. The dog helps people by putting their human things on a sled, then pulling them along the snow. Most sled dogs love this kind of thing.”
“But after pulling a sled all day with people’s stuff on the sled, why would any dog go an extra mile? I’d think they’d want a nap. Do they get another biscuit? Is there a reward?”
“Got another one that’s not so mysterious?”
“Confucius say, dog housebroken? Hire carpenter.”
Fido thought about this for a half a second and then began to laugh. First it was just a snort, then a couple of snorts, then a full-on belly laugh. He rolled onto his back, laughing a river of tears. “That,” he said, “is rich.”
“OK,” I said. “One more. But that’s it for today. I have to get back to the Big Ten Bloodbath on TV.”
Fido fished out the last fortune in the bowl.
“There is no such thing as a stranger—only a butt that has not yet been sniffed.” Fido put his paw to his chin. It was a thoughtful pose.
“It’s true,” he said. “I’d just never thought about it that way.”