"The dog is a gentleman; I hope to go to his heaven, not man's." – Mark Twain, Letter to W D Howells, 4/2/1899

Rufus and the Dog Walker.


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I tried to explain, but my mistress wasn’t having any of it.

She believed that I needed a dog walker and I said that I had her, so why would I need anyone else. She said that she needed to finish her latest book and I said we could take a short walk; I don’t mind. She said that there was no such thing as a short walk with Rufus and I reluctantly agreed. I am a bit of a hog when it comes to walking. There is so much to see, so many messages left by other dogs, butterflies to chase. It makes me itchy pawed just thinking about it.

I must say that I think she chose poorly, my mistress that is. Sure, the dog walker smelled nice and she was pretty by human standards, but what was with those shoes? She nearly stepped on me a couple of times so I did my best to stay away from her, but that seemed to make matters worse. The more I tried to get out of her way the more she looked like she might topple over and squish me. I’m pretty quick on my feet so I probably could have gotten out of the way if she did topple over but imagine the embarrassment of being attached to an upturned human. From my experience, female humans don’t fall well. Male humans are pretty good at it and they think it is fun. I usually jump on them when they fall over, but female humans tend to squeal if you jump on them, so I try to avoid it. I don’t think she’ll last very long in this job but for the time being I’m okay with it. She attracts lots of attention, mostly from males, and I get lots of attention as well, but I think that they  are more interested in her than in me; which is confusing. She only has hair on her head and she walks, rather unsteadily, on her back legs.

I’ll never understand humans, but as long as there are treats and long walks, who cares? Sometimes it is better not to know.

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