He doesn’t always pay attention to my priorities, of course. He is just as likely to ignore them completely, on account of his ill-informed view that I am inclined towards the eccentric, the off-beat and the perverse.
The fact is, I only select those stories that resonate with me in a powerful way, stories that teach me something useful, like how to avoid unnecessary pain and stay out of trouble.
The one that ticks the boxes this week is about Fezco, a four-year-old dog of unknown breed who was dumped at an animal shelter because his owners feared he might be gay.
This was because Fezco apparently humped another male dog and his owners assumed he must be gay. They didn’t want him in the house so they left him at the Stanley County Animal shelter in North Carolina.
The Boss says I shouldn’t be surprised – this is a country where a quarter of the population believes that the sun orbits the earth and another 7% believe chocolate milk comes from brown cows.
Which immediately dashed my fervent hope that he would cart the Golden Leave-it-There away to the Greater Shepparton Animal Shelter for the same reason.
Now, only sheer embarrassment has prevented me from revealing this disturbing habit of the Leave-it-There: he is a serial humper. Girl dogs, boy dogs, the plumber’s leg, a cosy-looking dog bed. He’s my only company these days and I might be next, although he’s not all that fond of me, now I think of it.
My own preference is for the fur-child from Melbourne when she visits, despite the fact that I’m “firing blanks,” as The Boss is inclined to snigger, but the young Missus thinks it’s altogether untidy, so there is a lot of discouragement and I have to wait until the humans are busy doing something else.
Besides, it’s not my fault: she teases me, the fur-child does, and gets me stirred up in the mood to play, then she runs under the table for protection. What do you make of that?
The other story that caught my attention this week was the recent study revealing that thousands of years living with humans has seen cats’ brains shrink significantly.
They compared the craniums of domestic cats with those of African wildcats, their closest ancestors, and found domestic cats’ craniums to be around 25% smaller.
The Boss speculated that the same sort of development is likely in domesticated dogs, while looking at me intently — but I’m convinced my handsome cranium is twice the size of the dingo’s so I’ll ignore that possibility.
The other news I gleaned this week is that the sweet little mutt Frank is still available at the Greater Shepparton Animal Shelter — for a very reasonable $350. When you consider the cost of shots, neutering, a microchip and a check-out from the vet, he’s a steal.
But if you’re looking for something with a small brain, other than one of Fezco’s owners, there is always Denis the cat at the same place. At least he’s cute. Woof!
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