In a park, a few miles west of Vancouver, one short shadowy four-legged figure spots another engaging in a bit of business…
What you doin' over there?"
"None of your GODDAMN--oh HEY Buster, how's it going?" Chester replied, frantically pawing
out a small hole in the earth to bury his transaction before trotting over to greet his buddy Buster.
"Not bad,” said Buster. “Just been kicking back with a Winalot Prime
smoothie and cleaning my balls most of the afternoon. Golf balls. I got a
new set for Christmas. It's nice to have time for some of life's more
meaningful pleasures. How was your Christmas? Get up to anything much?”
“Oh, you know. The usual,” said Chester.
“The kids dressing me up in a santa hat, ski goggles and tinsel, then taking
photos and posting them on Facebook. Lots of family walks in the woods. Some
good leftover turkey. And we also watched Chitty
Chitty Bark Bark for the 59th time. I passed a lot of gas during
that, which livened up proceedings.”
“Woof-woof! High-five! (they
strike paws, but it’s more of a LOW-five. Balance is a bit of an issue with their horizontal statures). Yes,
it’s a good movie ‘n’ all – but there’s only so much of Dick Van Dog’s
over-the-top jovialty I can take, too.”
A couple of people appear on the trail, heading straight towards the
Golden Retriever and Liver-spotted dalmation who, but for
the fact they were canines, could have been mistaken for being engaged in
"Yeah, I know what you mean. Oh wait – here come some humans—BARK!
BARK! BARK! WOOF! WOOF! BARK! BARK! WOOF! BARK! BARK! WOOF! GROWWWLLL... WOOF! BARK! BARK! HOWWWWWLLL! (whispering: “Sniff my ass! Sniff my ass! It'll keep them off the
"Have they gone now? Phew, that was a close one."
“So you’re telling me that humans still think we’re communicating to each
other – or them – when we bark, woof or growl… incessantly?”
To read the rest of this column, check out BC Johnny's upcoming book: Chilled Almonds.