And Down Will Come Baby, Cradle and Whatever Else Has No Business In the Top of a Tree

Dog Looking at and Listening to a Phonograph, ...

(Photo credit: Beverly & Pack)

As I sit in my lonely writer’s room, I ponder my very existence. Do I actually exist? If so, why am I here? How can I possibly accomplish the task for which I was brought into existence to accomplish? “How,” I ask you.  “How?” As my soul sinks into the depths of despair, I feel my very life’s blood flow into nothingness, for I am nothing…a mere thought, unable to accomplish the simplest of accomplishments.

 How sappy can you get? I almost threw up writing it. It may have flown a hundred years ago, and although my version was a little over the top, it just goes to show you how writing styles have changed over the years.

 I used this intro to segue into sayings we use today, but which have lost their relevance, (had they possessed an iota of relevance to begin with.)

 Remember this one?

 “Work like a dog.”

 Now I’ll admit that there are breeds of “working” dogs that actually labor today and this practice was much more prevalent back in the day when dogs were bred for a specific job.   The notion that, “work like a dog” has any real meaning today careened down the mountain side, through the veterinary specialists (including psychiatry) canine insurance, into businesses catering exclusively to our four-legged friends  complete with gourmet food, sweaters, bows and, the crème de la crème, fake reindeer antlers.

  My dog’s definition of work would be as follows:

 Eat, drink, lick, standup, yawn, chase squirrels, become bored, give up, bark at a cloud, water bowl too far away, yawn, circle twice, plop down, lick, take nap. Repeat process until bedtime.

 “Work like a dog?” I think not.

 How about this one?

 “Sleep like a baby.”

A friend spends the night at your house. The next morning you meet in the kitchen for breakfast. During coffee you make an offhand comment.“How’d you sleep last night?” “Like a baby,” comes the reply.

So you went to bed around 8 p.m., I think to myself. Cried yourself to sleep, woke up at 10 and 12 for a feeding and diaper change. At 2 a.m. you drank your bottle, burped ever so slightly and then pressure-puked all over your mother, your crib and yourself. Finally returned to sleep at 3 a.m., woke up at 4 a.m. for bottle and diaper change , then laid back down just in time for a rectal blowout. This little slice of heaven managed to push through the diaper legs and all over the crib. Someone cleaned you up and all involved were back to sleep by 5:30 a.m.. You were up for the rest of the day by 6 a.m.

 Once again, “sleep like a baby.” I think not.

 So what can we take away from these paragraphs of wisdom? Unfortunately, not much, so I’ll leave you with this tidbit:

 Elephants could fly, if bicycles would stop eating ham sandwiches… Now think on that one a while and get back to me.

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