I'm generally regarded as the wisest dog in my subdivision, and definitely the most connected.  My circle of friends and acquaintances developed over my eleven dog years of existence includes almost all of the dogs, and many of the humans in my borough.  When grave matters that need discerning judgement arise, these dogs often turn to me to make a judgment that will be viewed as fair; and because it carries my imprimatur, will be respected by all of the parties concerned.  The Poodle family has been the dominant dog breed in Wind Meadows for many years.  We know where all of the old bones are buried.  We know which grasses are the tastiest, and control access to the best swimming holes on the pond.  In the last few months, a number of  young Pit Bulls  have moved into the neighborhood, and I have received intelligence that indicates that they may be forming alliances that may challenge my power and authority.  Frankly, I eschew power and all of its trappings.  I believe that all of the breeds can live together in harmony; if wisdom prevails, and I remain in charge.

     As I indicated earlier, my authority in helping settle dog disputes derives from my keen intelligence and Solomon-like wisdom.  There was one serendipitous occurrence early in my career as dog donness that cemented my authority, and may have something to do with the willingness of the other dogs to follow me.  I had just hosted a Rottweiler in my doghouse the day before.  He came to me with complaints, saying that because he was a fierce fighter, he should receive extra payouts from the stash of bones that our collective controls.  He got angry when I argued the merits of our usual method of distribution, and he went off barking and snarling.  I was worried that perhaps I wasn't seeing his side of things, so I decided to invite him over the next day and offer him a week's supply of of the tastiest grass on the prairie, if he would consider sanctioning our usual way of doing things.  He left this time without all of the histrionics, and said he would mull things over and let me know his decision the next day.  I told the other dogs that I had made him an offer he couldn't refuse.  I explained that they should never hate their rivals, it affects your judgement.  The next day arrived, and the Rottweiler didn't show up for our planned meeting.  In fact, he was never seen again in our neighborhood.  Talk among the dogs was that I had scared the Rottweiler away, or had him disposed of in some sordid manner.  Those dogs that know me well, knew that that wasn't the case. They know  that I'm a mild dog despite my fierce bark.  I later heard my masters talking to the owners of the Rottweiler.  They indicated that the dog had run away after a coyote, and had not been seen since.  They believed that the Rottweiler may have gotten lost, or perhaps the coyote had injured or killed the dog.  I kept this information close, and my reputation grew as a result.  I don't apologize for the decisions I've made.

     I never wanted this life for the young poodles in the subdivision.  When it comes to controlling the distribution of fine, aged bones, it's strictly business.  I don't like violence, I'm a businessdog.  Dog blood is bad for the milk bone business.  I thought I'd make another try for peace with the new Pit Bulls who want to get into dangerous areas of lemongrass trafficking.  These dogs don't realize the deleterious effects such weeds can have on the pups.  I sent the head Pit Bull a gift that I found down by the pond.  It was a number of fish that some humans had left on the shore.  They looked fresh and tasty so I wrapped them in some old newspapers I found in the house, and sent them to the young dogs as a peace offering.  The next day, the group of upstarts came to my lieutenants and made an offering of steaks to the poodles of the neighborhood.  I was pleasantly surprised to find that my gift of fish had had such a strong effect on their opinion.  I later learned that the newspaper that I had used to wrap the fish had carried a story about the missing Rottweiler.  I also learned that my offer of fish wrapped in this newspaper had been misconstrued.  These young dogs thought I meant that the missing Rottweiler sleeps with the fishes, and that I put him there.  Where they got such an idea is a mystery to me.

     The lead Pit Bull still wouldn't see the light.  I agreed to speak to this dog in back of one of the neighborhood restaurants.  He had along a couple dog friends.  I came alone.  We barked, but nothing came of it.  Growing weary, I excused myself and said, "Do you mind if I go to the bathroom?"  Like I said, I don't believe in violence.  I myself wonder what happened to those 3 dogs.  Some of the other dogs ask me if I was responsible for their disappearance.  I just say "no".

     There's a new plot of flowers right next to my doghouse in the back yard.  It's in between my house, and the house where my lieutenants stay. It's good to know that my companions are nearby. As I've always said, keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer:)

The Dogmother
Buffy


P.S.  I seem to have scribbled this story during a dream.  You all know that I'm a meek, scholarly dog and that I would never act in the manner of the dog described above.  I think I'll go and wake the family.  As I've always said, a dog that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real pet.