HEY LUCKY – WE’RE FRIENDS, BUT THIS IS NOT OK!

HEY LUCKY – WE’RE FRIENDS, BUT THIS IS NOT OK!

So I’m heading out for my afternoon coffee hit, motor through the gate – and who should be there but Lucky, lying next to my driveway. I stop in shock, because the damn dog is smoking the biggest spliff I’ve ever seen; a joint of such epic proportions that his flews can’t even cover it properly. He looks utterly blissed out. Hell Lucky, they execute you for that here.

HEY LUCKY - WE'RE FRIENDS, BUT THIS IS NOT OK!

Then I focus on the rest of the tableau, and find that he’s knocked over my rubbish bin, chewed a hole through the plastic bag, and carefully extracted, not food, but an empty toilet roll tube. And now he’s sitting there with a look of pure ecstasy, chomping on his reefer like some demented Rastafarian.

I speak harshly to him and tell him that I’m disappointed. I mean, he has a total command of quantum physics, an understanding of the true nature of time, he comprehends multiple infinities better than any mathematician in history, he can teleport at will – and he knocks over rubbish bins? Come on, Lucky, what the hell?

He stares at me. “What have my skills got to do with anything?” he retorts. “I’m a dog. I knock over rubbish bins. I fossick for fun, not because I’m hungry. That’s what we do.”

Ah, OK. I guess even a super-dog can have his strange behavioural aberrations, just like people do. I mean, people who are otherwise intelligent, still do bizarre and inexplicable things, like vote for Donald Trump or Tony Abbott, or become vegans.

I guess smart dogs are no different …

 

* by Vyt Karazija

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