I’ll need a responsible
job ... one that pays well and provides top notch benefits such as a cute
little secretary of an esteemed breed.
Maybe a Collie for good looks, or a Chesapeake if I locate near the water. Of course, a big Newfoundland would be comforting on cold winter nights. And a German Shepherd would tear the heart
out of anyone who threatened. But come
to think of it, a diminutive Chihuahua might add a little Latin zing to my life.
As usual, I’m ahead of
myself. Before I spend a lot of time
contemplating what I want in life, I need to get ready for today’s world of win
or lose, triumph or heartbreak, Winner’s Circle or Circle K.
Part of one’s preparation
for a worthwhile life is of course a proper education. I’ve read that college provides ample
opportunity for eager-beaver students to witness adult men and women … the
faculty ... make a comfortable living by doing mostly nothing. But they do it with style.
“I’m thinking I’d like
to do my undergraduate work at MIT,” I told Himself, “and then pursue my PhD
and ongoing academic glory at Stanford and maybe wind up on the faculty of Princeton.”
He looked down at his feet.
“We have possibly enough
money set aside to send you to typewriter repair school.”
“What’s a typewriter?
“They were used before
personal computers. You can buy one real
cheap today. You can learn to fix them
for even less.”
I could foresee an
awkward moment some day in the future when my Curriculum Vitae was read off at
the Nobel Prize ceremony and my only entry was Phil’s Typewriter School.
“You have no need for
a technical or professional education,” Himself said.
“Why not? Let each
become all that he is capable of being.”
“Because no one is going to hire a university
trained dog as a junior executive to analyze insurance forms.”
“You’re probably
right,” I said “But I was kind of hoping
I could talk Home Depot into hiring me as an appliance salesman. I’m certainly
personable.”
“But Murphy,” he said,
“the only person who understands you is me.”
“We haven’t tried
Berlitz yet,” I said.
“It may take more than
that,” said the old man.
“But once I learn to
talk like you and Herself, there’s no limit to my potential. I could even become a TV Weatherman.”
“So you could tell people who never go outside
it will rain tomorrow.”
“Well, yeah ...”
“For thirty years,
every night. ‘Temperatures moderating over the delta, periods of
rain likely ...’”
I had to admit it.
“That does sound pretty boring.”
“Anyway,” said
Himself, “you do have a few talents that might be put to use. Maybe as a Nanny for a suburban family.”
“I don’t like most of
the children I’ve met.” I said. “If I could tie them up and hide them in the cellar
that might work for me.”
“Or how about a
therapy dog …” he said, his voice trailing off as if he was sorry he mentioned
it.
“I think people just
need to get over it,” I said.
“Murphy, perhaps you
need an education in the humanities that is tailored especially for anyone who is
not intellectually inquisitive. A plan
for someone who will navigate through life without a great deal of precision.”
“Where could I go to
school for that?” I asked.
“Right here. You
needn’t leave home.”
“You mean a
correspondence school?”
“Not exactly,” he said,
“although much like it.”
“I don’t know. I was kind of looking forward to all those
campus activities I’ve read about. Those
that tickle a young man’s fancy and do just about the same for a dog.”
“You mean “booze,
broads and mini Coopers?” he said.
“No, I meant sleeping late, skipping housework and
being irresponsible.”
“Yes,” he said. “You’d be good at that. Do you like Chinese?”
“You know I like any
kind of food. Or garbage.”
“I think,” he said,
“everything in your universe, everything you need to know, you will find on the
paper slips found inside fortune cookies.”
“Really?”
“Yes, listen to this
gem: “A smile is your passport into the hearts of others.”
“That’s pretty
astute,” I said.
“And this one: “Change
can hurt, but it leads a path to something better.”
“Wow,” I said. “I’d sure like to be able to quote sayings
like that.”
“I propose we have
take-out two or three times each week and you can memorize your fortune cookie
lesson each time you eat the cookie.”
“And that’s a proper
substitute for classes, books, term papers and final exams?
“Yes, for you it is,”
he said
“What about Beer
Brawls, fraternity smokers and all night
beach parties?”
Himself raised his
eyes heavenward and sighed.
“No,” he said. “You’ll
be too busy with your studies.”
So I feel a lot
better, now that I have education plans in place. I’m to be taught by the
finest scholars of the current dynasty, the People’s Republic of China. I have to
hand it to the old man. He almost always
has a solution for any problem.
A couple of my friends
outside the fence scoffed at the plan to educate me with Fortune Cookies. Billerica the Boxer asked
why not just memorize a Chinese restaurant menu. “Because,” I told her, “if asked about the
cause of modern mankind’s social dilemma, I certainly would not want to
answer “General Tso’s Chicken.”
Hudson, the Airdale
Terrier, said I should be concerned
about my triglyceride levels.
And so today, for
lunch we went down to Mr. Chow Wu’s take-out:
Chow’s
Hot Chow
Wet Drinks Our Specialty
All
Food Must Go.
I got the Sweet
and Sour Pork and the first lesson of my
academic career. I cracked open the
cookie and rolled out the slip of paper.
I’ll share it with you since it may apply more to you than me.
Your
shoes will make you happy today
I should have it
framed and hung in the corner of the kitchen where I do my homework. Maybe I’ll
use it someday in the opening of my Nobel acceptance speech.
Paws are not very
useful for holding and writing with a pen or pencil, so I dictated this to my
man-servant here ... the old fellow who insists he owns me like some kind of
pet.
copyright, 2016 David Griffin
The Windswept Press
Murrells Inlet, South
Carolina
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