Now You Has Jazz
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Now You Has Jazz

I am a Lucky Dog!

And you thought I was just an unlucky human!

When I stop to think about it, I am a lucky dog, but not just any dog — we are talking top dog here. People are often telling me that too and usually before slapping me on the back or on the front, depending on which way I was facing at the time.

Before I go any further, what makes a dog so lucky in the first place? The furry coat? Dog houses? Is it all of the dog treats? It’s got to be the dog treats because it certainly can’t be the access to squeaky toys, or old hairless tennis balls or tick medication. And I should know. Believe me.

Anyways, I am lucky. I do know that and not just because I had some commemorative wall hangings and place mats made that said as much because I had some unexpected free time when my chiropractor abruptly cut our appointment short, declaring my spine “beyond reproach” although he did also have his bags packed for Hawaii which seemed…odd.

I do recognize that others may not be as fortunate as I and that they may also find my luckiness “inspirational” or “prove that the higher power has off days” or “grating” and not the kind involving a nice sharp cheddar. I really don’t want to come across as cocky or as a braggart, although if I had to choose, I’d go with the later because it is an underused and mostly misunderstood word in my neck of the woods.

I’d love to share the wealth and help others be luckier too. And, just to be clear, I don’t mean any actual wealth as most of my wealth is either fictitious or tied up in avocado futures. I wish they would ripen faster and then I’ll be rolling in it, or on it, as they are quite round and smooth! But, if I can help, I’d like to share my luckiness as maybe this is one of the few good things about me that could be contagious. You never know unless you try. No need for a quarantine here! At least not anymore. Progress!

And I’m always being reminded by random pedestrians, forensic investigators and my mom to count my lucky stars and I keep saying “yes” followed by “how do I know which ones are lucky” followed by my wondering if they are just attempting to keep me busy while they clean me out of cookies and then I inevitably try to start a rousing modernized version of Twinkle Twinkle only to be booed off the stage.

It’s ironic, but I do not have a good history with dogs either. Dogs usually want to slobber on me and bite me — usually in that order. And I have always wondered why? It’s not like I want to bite them! Really, I don’t. Not in the slightest. Okay once, but I was really hungry! If anything I want to stay as far away from dogs as I can, mostly due to the fear of being bitten and having them read my mind as that just wouldn’t look good for me or my sieve-like brain on a resume.

So, when others tell me I am a lucky dog, I’m not totally sure how to take it. Should I sit? Should I dance a happy dance? Should I dance a slower, more sad dance and then come right back with a happy one, so others can see the difference? Do they mean that compared to all other dogs, especially the homeless and mangy, I am lucky? Or are they saying that if I was a dog, then I’d be one of the lucky few — call me a king of the dogs?…I could see that. “Dog King reporting for duty!”

Sure! I’d start out with a groundroots campaign. Get my hands dirty, kiss babies (dog babies), dig some holes, chase some cats and eventually rise through the ranks and finish as a benevolent dictator. The best benevolent dictator the dogs have ever seen and there have been many, based on my very sketchy understanding of local dog politics. I’ll be honest — I have no idea what they are doing on the other side of the Pacific.

I am always very appreciative of praise of all sorts even the type that makes me want to get down on all fours and bark at the speaker. I have learned the hard way never to look a gifthorse in the mouth. Never. It’s disgusting. But, I have to say that the next person who says “you lucky dog” better be really attractive, really funny or hopefully both or else I may just give them a piece of my mind. Figuratively. Now, if you’ll excuse me I must go to bed, as I am as sick as a…how’s that go again?

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Tommy Paley

Tommy Paley

4.5K Followers

I write creative non-fiction, humorous and random short stories, unique and tasty recipes and fiction involving odd and funny relationships. I also love cheese.