Why I Wish I Were a Dog

I would be being deceitful, my dear reader, if I did not detail my grisly fancy of wanting to be the most toxic viper in the history of herpetologya serpent so noxious my sting would cause, without any recourse to an antidote, instant death. In addition, my sheath could camouflage itself at any moment, could blend in with any color or texture upon which it had alighted. I would set out for all parts of the world flying first class, taking taxis, hopping on busesgoing wherever I trusted myself with the hope of pricking those individuals I thought should be bitten. For example, I would fly to New York, attach myself to a taxi cab, slither up the elevators of the most important banks in the erstwhile financial capital of the world, slide to the offices of the CEOs and Chairmen of the Boards, and then sink my fangs into as many of the golden parachutists as I were able. Of course, while I was in the DisUnited States, I would not forget to hit upon Donald Trump, Rush Limbaugh, Sarah Palin, Donald Rumsfeld, Dick Cheney, Karl Rove, Rick Perry, Michelle Bachmann and, naturally, all the congressmen and senators in Washington who were either lawyers or millionaires. Then off to Europe. First Italy. Without a doubt I would nip with my fangs the corrupt politicians, the vitiated university professors, the bribable journalists, the depraved bankers, the purchasable sports figures and the underhanded yacht set. And so afterRome. I would pierce all the pedophilic priests, bishops and cardinals in Vatican City, the prelates with Rolex watches and chauffeured Mercedes-Benzs, the president of the Vatican bank Istituto per le Opere di Religione, Silvio Berlusconi, Umberto Bossi, Jerry Scotti, Carlo Conti, Rita della Chiesa, and Lilly Gruber. In France, I would gash The Betancourt family, Dominique StraussKahn, Nicolas Sarkozy, Carla Bruni, and Jacques Chirac. In England, the goofball Tony Blair, Prince Philip, Rupert Murdock, David Cameron, Prince Charles and Camilla, and most of the journalists of the British Broadcasting Corporation. And, of course, many others of this ilk who, all over the world, appear to be prospering. I also wanted to be a lion once upon a time. But when I started eating unsympathetic humans, I found them to taste disgustingly dreadful. The diets of human beings these days have left them with a gustatory sensation that is horribly trashy what with all the fats and salts and sweets these overly stressed ones are gorging themselves with. Being a dog is my best betwithout a doubt. As a dog I would not have to speak so I could not be tempted to enter into controversial discussions which, for the most part, have little hope of being brought to a successful, even rational, conclusion. I would not choose to be a mean dog. I see no sense in wanting to bite people as I formerly thought I would like to do when I cared to be a serpent. Being a nice friendly dog would win me points with many respectable humans, and some of them might even want to take me under their wing and offer me nutrients and shelter. If I had any sort of problem with them, I could just walk out and continue searching for a new place to live. I'd have no taxes to pay, no bills to settle, no job to attend, no traffic jams, no wars to fight, no fear of flying, no worry about being held up, no divorce settlements, no death of a wife or friend to fret about, no long lines to wait on, no bankruptcy, no job loss, no jail...

Bowwow! Woof! Woof!

Authored by Anthony St. John on 9 October MMXI www.scribd.com/thewordwarrior