Every Dog Has His Day...

They say that every dog has his day and tomorrow is Nipper's! It is hard to believe that that tiny, five week old puppy is going to be fifteen years old tomorrow. Where did the time go? But, most of all I want to know, why do dogs get old so young?

The same little guy who couldn't even gnaw his way through a Milk Bone back then is getting his own birthday cake tomorrow. It will have three tiers and be decorated with bacon, bologna, hot dogs and salami. I am the one baking it and between you and me, it is so much fun, I can't wait to serve it.

Here's a photo of Nipper peeking out from under the kitchen table. On top are the ingredients for a three-tier, meat-a-rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-ific doggie birthday cake.

Hope you can make it tomorrow! Don't tell Nipper, but his present is a motorized bubble machine that generates up to 1,000 bubbles per minute. His dad just came up from the basement (after installing the batteries, etc.) and declared, "It's tempermental, but it'll work."

Hmmmm...just like me?

Jake and Jake Sweeney!

I have always been easily manipulated by the media. So, when I was a little kid, I had two goldfish named "Jake" and "Jake Sweeney." You see, the Sweeney car dealerships advertised heavily on Saturday mornings and afternoons, which is when I did most of my television viewing.

Who could blame me for wanting to use the Sweeney name? In between "Mr. Hop", "Shock Theater" and "Big Time Wrestling" I would watch in amazement, milk dribbling out of my bowl of Frosted Flakes while Mr. Sweeney hawked the virtues of dozens of used cars. He'd stand out in front of the dealership holding a microphone (which immediately gave him credence in my book) and the lot guys would drive up car after car. When he was finished giving the spiel about how swell each one was, he'd rap the hood with his knuckles and it would drive on as if by magic. Now, that was power!

Once, when I was about five, the Sweeney dealerships had a promotion that gave away a free pony (or $50) with the purchase of every used car. When I got all excited and asked if we could buy a car in order to get one, my dad said that we couldn't keep a horse in the city of Ft. Thomas. A precocious child, I cited a family we knew who lived in the city who had a horse. "You need a special permit," he said (thinking quickly on his feet), "And I don't know how to get one."

Fifteen minutes later I called him to the phone. It was the Mayor's office and they wanted to know where to send the paperwork. Precocious, thy name was Marsie...

Four decades later and I still don't have a pony. But I did buy two goldfish yesterday and for old times sake, named them "Jake and Jake Sweeney." They're nice, but you can't ride 'em. Hey, maybe...that gives me an idea. If not now, when? Gotta go, I'm calling they Sweeney's; perhaps they has a few left over.