[Hal Copple]

i have always liked dogs. Real dogs, the kind that have the gumption to stand up to a marauding bear, or a coiling Diamondback, or get between the wolf and the settler's children. Why, i still remember Old Yellar, him taking on on the peccary hogs, like a good dog would. A good dog will never let you down.

I actually have a fine dog myself, half Weimerainer, half lab, kinda timid, actually, but faithful to me and the family, and who sleeps by the side of my SPF every night out in the garage. When Abby doesn't smell too bad, i even let her into the house to warm up or cool off.

But i have no use for little prissy yappy dogs, the kind grey hair'ed ladies fawn over, feed little tidbits to. I think a dog needs to rip gristle from elk bones, not nibble soft stuff from a can.

Recently had an "incident" with such a prissy dog. Hot day, stuck in traffic, the beastly Stroked Windsor thumping away at idle, and this car pulls up next to me, windows for some reason rolled down. This small, ferret-like dog climbs up onto the passenger's seat back, and acts all aggravated by my engine's crackling exhaust. All smug like, feeling safe and potent in its master's car.

So i gave a gentle blip, and the little rat dog started really yapping at me, all puffed up, barking up a storm. The driver, this older lady, was apparantly miffed at her pet's heartache, so she edged forward a few feet.

I did the same, keeping my Ceramic sidepipe aimed right at Little Lord Barky. Again i blipped the right pedal, more this time, and the dog just went nuts barking at my left ear. So the lady moved up a bit again, but i matched her, and then when the fierce white dog began it's most hostile barking at my car, i decided to end it right there.

I gave the Great Stroker a thunderous blip of the throttle, and the Peanut Dog just flipped all the way across the car, and seemed to disappear to the far side of the car, and i heard no more from its vocal cords. At that moment the light turned green, and hearing no more from the Lap Dog, i eased away, and gently motored away.

Now if she had had a real dog with her, i would have smiled and given praise, but for the yappy dog, it was cylinders 5, 6, 7 & 8. Came home, and scruffed up Abby's neck, and gave her a biscuit. I need to teach my dog to brush her teeth, though.