"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

The Adventures of Rufus: Herman.

aae37430066e075eb7447bc5214a8d93Some people can disguise who they really are, but not Herman.

What you see is what you get.

He’s a bit scruffy, but he says he is supposed to look that way. “It’s my breed. We all look like this.”

“Maybe so, but do you all have food in your beard and dirt in your ears. Is that part of your breed, or are you just a scruffy bastard who digs holes and never bothers to clean his beard on the furniture, like sophisticated dogs do?”

“Good point. Scruffy bastard it is.”

That exchange was typical of Herman. He rarely got upset. Life is a bit of a joke to him.

His favourite trick is to lie in the middle of the road when old Mrs Thompson drives by. She’s blind as a beagle and drives like a Shitzu. “Oh my God, oh my god. Someone has run over a doggie.”

She never seems to remember that Herman pulled that one on her a dozen times and as recently as last week.

I must say that the best bit is where Mrs Thompson cradles him in her arms as he slowly comes to. She drives him home and feeds him milk and blackberries, just like Peter Rabbit’s mum did; only Peter Rabbit didn’t get any, but Herman does.

It’s all very entertaining, but one of these days Herman is going to get squished by a milk truck and I won’t have anyone to entertain me.

“Why don’t you just move in with Mrs Thompson and be her dog. It would save a lot of effort. She’d probably feed you blackberries and milk every day?”

“That would be too easy. A dog likes to feel that he has earned his tucker.”

That too was typical of Herman.

He might be a bit of a scruffy bastard, but he has principles.



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