Barkley says, “Jack, Jack, it’s back.”
“Why I’ll be darned,” I say.
He says, “Can I pee on it, Jack?”
I say, “Certainly, Barkley.”
He says, “Would you like to go first?”
I say, “No, that’s okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, you see, they might arrest me for that.”
“Okay,” says Barkley, “Would you mind not taking a picture?”
So I lower my camera and Barkley raises his leg.
When he’s finished, Barkley says, “How did this happen, Jack? How did the picnic table come back?”
“Well,” I say, “I believe a man named Corporal Dave Lewis of the Sykesville police had something to do with it. He sent you a letter.”
And then I read the letter to Barkley.
Best I can do. Beer cans are all cleaned up, the suspected bong (wrapping for one of the new trees, as it turns out) recovered and disposed of. And with a lot of assistance from the police department’s new AWD SUV cruiser and a tow cable, the pic-a-nic table is back up where you can pee on it without getting your feet wet. Or Jack can.
I can’t change A-hole’s behavior, but I hope this helps.
P.S., Dad was right, there was more than one of them. That joker is HEAVY !
Barkley says, “I was wrong, Jack. Humans don’t suck.”
“Only some,” I say. “The trick is not to be one of them.”
Barkley’s not the strongest of dogs. He has some kind of disorder and when he doesn’t take steroids, he can hardly walk. The steroids aren’t good for him and are probably shortening his life, but as long as he takes them he’s pretty much okay.
And sometimes, like today, really happy, with his faith restored in humanity, he gets back the old strength in his legs and makes a mighty leap.
He’s a noble old fella.