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Humans Are Funny

First Bark: Brownie

The dog kept on barking at me, but I didn’t care. I had a more important business to mind, which was to sniff every electric post I and Boss passed by. For me, every walk was a chance to know which dog was the lord of posts. I had to know how I could outsmart the dog and claim the post where it left its filthy marks. Anyway, this was my street, and I had the right to reclaim those posts.

But then, in one of my walks with Boss, I finally took notice of that bark-freak neighborhood dog. I heard the dog’s boss called him “Brownie.” “Brownie, shut up!” the boss called out. It was more of a groan to me than an annoyed voice trying to shut up a noisy dog.

I was curious—what could be this dog’s color to earn him that familiar name? One night, while Boss was intent on making our walk interesting by looking for a clean sidewalk (at this point, I thought Boss was losing her sanity, because I didn’t think there was ever a clean street in the Big City; and how does she define clean sidewalk, anyway?), I took a detour. I quickly popped over to Brownie’s place. It was good the house’s gate was open, so it was fairly easy for me to dash right in front of Brownie’s face.

Ha! So that’s you, Brownie, the dog that challenged my caninehood!

I could now see Brownie up close. And lo, Brownie was a white dog with just one big, brown spot conveniently placed on his back near the head! What a bummer!

How could Brownie’s boss have the nerve to give him such a horrible name? Ah, humans! They can be so unfair.

And so, it came to pass that I pitied Brownie. His boss might have been busy doing human tasks (like what Boss does every time she’s home, but I will tell you about that later) she probably just took the first name that popped out her mind. Well, I’m a lot luckier than Brownie. When Boss got me, she went ballistic searching for a name that would fit my fine breed and good look.

That’s it, Boss, I thought, think hard. I won’t ever look at you or go with you for a walk if you give me a lousy name!

She worked the phone like crazy, asking friends what could be a good name for me. I could hear her saying, “Nah, not that one. It will make him look like a poodle or something.”

What? A poodle? Pleez! Poodles are way out of my league. Poodles and pomeranians and chihahuas, I think, are a bunch of canines whose only purpose in life is to show off their coats. As for me, I’m a dog with a mission—I was created to scare smelly cats away and search around the house for horrible cockroaches that I consider a threat to my peaceful existence. I can trample on a cockroach to kingdom come without having to exert much effort. But Boss doesn’t look pleased whenever she sees a mangled cockroach lying around. “You murdered a cockroach again!” she would scream.

But before I forget, have I told you I have another special skill I think only I have? I can detect which part of the house is being destroyed by termites! But that’s another story.

Oh, I almost forgot—it’s Brownie I’m supposed to talk about here. Anyway, from that time on, I took it upon myself to fulfill another noble mission: to befriend Brownie and assure him that his name was, well, a misnomer all right, but it’s just a name and it won’t make him look more terrible like he already is.

Besides—well, except in my case—a name doesn’t make a dog. It’s the way a dog barks.