Sammy the Wonder Dog

There is no Sammy the Wonder Dog, and there might not even be a day at the beach. These are, among others, some of the lessons of life, revelations that are part of the aging process. There should be a Sammy, of course, Sammy of the wagging tail and barking that must mean something, Sammy of the dripping mouth after gulping at the water bowl. Perhaps even Sammy at the beach, happily running along the water's edge, chasing a frisbee.

I had a dog a long time ago, Tippy, back in the days when people actually named their dogs Tippy. Could have been Tippie, for all I know. The dog never actually spelled his name. The only thing I really remember about Tippy was that he was friendly and that he had fleas. Tippy must have died soon after I went to live with my Aunt and Uncle, because I don't remember much about him after my first six or eight months there.

It's been cats ever since. Some of them, like Cato -- one half of the current duo inhabiting the house -- have been more dog than cat. Cato is one of those chewing cats. He likes to sample everything in the house and is especially fond of the edges of baskets. And, like any faithful dog, he follows me everywhere. But he's not the first to do that. Fribble and Grounder did the same. Still, there are things a cat just won't do. Like fetch. I did manage to train one of my cats to fetch, sort of. Once in a while. When she was really in the mood. And our other cat, Ginger, likes to bring us presents, but she doesn't do it on command, and she certainly doesn't bring anything back that we toss.

Which is something that Sammy the Wonder Dog would do, I know. I could throw stick after stick down the beach, and Sammy would happily gallop through the sand and bring each one back. How Cato would react to all of this is something I don't know, although I assume that Cato would bite Sammy's ankles. Frequently. And the ensuing chase through the house would probably destroy most of our lamps and knick-knacks, and I'd have to banish one of the animals to the back yard. And that animal would be, of course, Sammy, since Cato isn't allowed outside.

Poor Sammy, the Wonder Dog, chained to a post outside, all by himself, wondering what he did wrong, while Cato sits on the window sill and watches him, laughing, no doubt.

Bad cat.