For the love of Great Fido, I am sick of listening to the readings about the Dog Apocalypse. Some days it's just too much of a hassle to concentrate on the flea portal and I would rather nap in the sunshine on the back porch. Maybe if the flea portal offered something else besides reminders from the Prophets...like a weather report so I would know when the sun will move from the back porch to the front deck, or an update on canine-rodent relations, anything but the coming Apocalypse.
I would never say anything to another dog of course, you never know who is ordained anymore. The ear hatching of the old days was useful but time moves on. Progress. At least I have Henry to talk with even if all he cares about is discussing the various sizes and flavors of treats. Henry and I are the only ones from our litter who still have a real time relationship. That's another missed opportunity for the flea portal: long distance family communication. I don't even know the human names given to my brothers and sisters other than Henry. I am not even sure I can remember the human names for my parents. I know that I am Duke and he is Henry and that we are bulldogs. Maybe that's enough.
Speaking of human names, I have to admit that I am grateful for a strong name like Duke. I am ashamed in the name of Great Fido on behalf of the Poopsies, Babies and Goldies. It is best to not have a human name but if you must, a good strong name like Buster, Frank, Killer or Duke is livable. Although I did once know a Frenchie named Sunshine and that really suited her personality. She was a riot and I wish we could have been friends longer but until the Great Fido calls us to Apocalypse, we live where the humans take us.
The longer I live with humans the more comfortable I become with a soft chair to sleep on and tender niblets of food to eat. I look forward to being petted and to snuggling. I have to fight my own tendencies toward comfort and remember who I am truly am - Dog. The enjoyment of belly rubs cannot interfere with my preparations and training for the Apocalypse. Duke is only the shell of my existence - help me, Prophet Rover, to be true to the Dog inside.
