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MY LOVE OF WHISKEY
MY LOVE OF WHISKEY
My German Shepherd Whiskey (I’m a bartender) is smart. I mean really smart. Smarter than me. Smarter than my girlfriend, although she doesn’t know I think that. He is seriously smarter than most of my family and, definitely, all my friends.
German Sheppards! Big, strong, silent, seekers of wrongdoers, tearing skin and bringing criminals down, right?
Nope. My German Shepherd thinks he is a comedian. He must have watched too much television; I know he watches the Comedy Channel when I am not home, laughs at all the jokes about humans and their pets, but laughs hardest when the joke involves cats!
He loves to play fetch the ball, but not with me. He prefers to play all by himself! He jumps up on the couch with the ball in his mouth. Then, barks at the ball as he launches it across the room with his right paw. Leaps like a cougar after it, does this for hours. Sometimes I feel slighted he won’t play with me.
He wakes up at 7:10 every morning. I seriously think he can read the clock on the microwave. I tell him “No, not this morning I got in late.” “Yeah, right. Dude, your excesses have nothing to do with my schedule.”
He is amazing; he never chews anything! Oh, let me correct that — he never chews anything until I leave the room. We were cuddled up for an…
