Mutt Whiskey

Once upon a time I had a dog; it was a brief stint. I had walked by one of the Saturday pet adoptions on the sidewalk down the way from my work. Upon walking by and not seeing a dog that tugged properly at my heart strings I noticed a burnt orange tail peeking out from under a table. I asked to see the pup. It was an adorable mutt named Wispy. “Wispy?” I thought “That’s a dumb name for a boy dog!” going on the color of his fur and drunken demeanor which I later found out was due to bad hips, I deemed the pup “Whiskey”. It was a good name. Somewhere in my mind I thought “I am ready for this.” I must have been crazy. I filled out some papers and took Whiskey on as a foster dog until I was ready to adopt or in my case they found him a home before I was ready. During Whiskey’s stay at my home I took him for walks downtown. I started noticing a prejudice towards this awesome dog. People would constantly walk up to other dogs and pet them, yet they would ignore mine. At some point someone walked up to a dog Whiskey was sniffing and started with the goo goo, gaa gaa child voice over this obviously superior breed of a dog and asked what kind it was. I don’t remember but it was some kind of dumb half breed cocktail of a dog like a Puggle or a Labradoodle and let’s be honest people; IT’S A MUTT!!! (Especially if it’s not in my spell check) Sheesh you would think I had a zit riddled teenager who had just joined the 9^th grade. I look at the lady and said “Don’t you want to know what breed my dog is?” There was a bit of a pause and an uncomfortable reluctant “ooooook” from her. I smiled and announced quite valiantly “He’s one hundred percent pure bred mutt!” I smiled and walked away.