April 29 2006

Well gang, this week’s story is about a man and his dog.
It seems that Tony Depilatori had just rented a pressure washer to clean the mold and algae off of his house and garage.
Never having used one before, he hooked it up and started spraying experimentally with the thing to get the feel of it.
His brand new dog, a little border collie puppy, watched his every move, like as if there was going to be a test when this was over, and he was sinsere as all get out in maxing that test.
Tony tried the pressure washer on the cracks in the pavement of the driveway and the way the dirt flew as he directed the spray made him think of pulling the trigger of a gun and sending a beer can flying, or a bottle blowing up.
Then he aimed the spray at a moss-covered section of the fence between his property and that of his next door neighbor.
In less time than it takes to tell, three redwood boards of the fence were laying in his neighbor’s front yard.
This baby was impressive!
His wife called from the house. He was wanted on the phone.
Tony took a couple of cinder blocks and braced the pressure washer so that it was aimed at the black and green corner where the garage met the house, and ran inside to answer the phone.
Left to his own devices, the as yet un-named puppy curiously approached the stream of water that was exploding against the corner where the garage met the house.
It smelled like water, and didn’t seem aware of his presence. The puppy pounced.
He landed in the corner where the garage met the house. And when he came to, found that he was being pinned down by one heck of a force, while being pummeled all over at the same time.
And something similar to water was trying to get inside of him from every possible entry point.
All and all, it was worse than a trip to the vet.
Tony, his master, finally came back out and rescued him, and took him into the house. His wife looked at the dog and said, "My God Tony! All his hair is gone! He looks like a Mexican Hairless Chihuahua!"
"Yeah," Said Tony, "and twice as nervous…mix me a drink, Honey."
Tony’s wife poured two fingers of scotch over some rocks in a rocks glass, grabbed one of those seltzer bottles like the Three Stooges used to use, and gave it two short blasts.
That’s all it took. The puppy dived under the couch, smartly cracking his head on the way.
And that’s why Tony doesn’t drink soda with his scotch anymore, and why his puppy answers to the name of "Curly".

Till next week
Helga Biermeister
Secretary