I was bummed out.

Bear, the number two Big Dog around this house, knew it.  He went to the kitchen, pried open the door to the fridge with his nose, got a bottle of Corona, closed the fridge door with a turn of his tail, and brought the beer to me in the living room.

"What's up Boss?"

"Bear, how could I have missed this? For three years I have prided myself in being the numero uno dog in support of our City's PD.  I have worked to improve their pay and equipment. I have supported better training opportunities.  I feed the guys when they stop by to visit.  How could I be so damn insensitive and not get them a dog?"

"Don't be so tough on yourself, boss.  In the three years that you have sat on that City Council, I don't remember reading in the agenda packets any request from the Big Dog at GCSPD asking for a puppy. 

Think about this:  when I'm outside and want to come in, don't I have to sit at the door and bark at you until you let me in?  When I want to go outside at three a.m. to water the plants, don't I have to climb up on the bed and lick you in the face until you get up to let me out?  When I want to have supper, don't I have to hump your leg until you get my bowl?

Why should the dogs-in-blue at GCSPD be treated any different than you treat me?  If they want a puppy bad enough, they know how to bark, don't they?  I can't think of anytime you have ever said NO to a dog."

"Damn straight, Bear.  You got a point.  There's a reason I hired you to be the numero dos Big Dog around this place.  Go get yourself a beer,  I'll open it for you."     

Mayor Mikey, PE