grayness

So. I shall steal a story this evening. It's been years since I read it, so I will just do my own short and simple version.

Once upon a time there was a dog. A scotch terrier, actually. He had lived in the city all his life, with his owner. All he had ever known were humans and dogs... and the occasional cat.

But one summer, his owner went to live in the country, and took him along. And soon he met the dog from a neighboring farm (a collie), who tried to fill the city dog in on the nature of well... nature.

One evening, the two were out patrolling the edge of the woods, and they happened to run into a porcupine. The country dog said, "We better go another way, beca...."

The city dog was having none of it. "He's a runt, and he's got no business around here! I'll go run him off!"

The next morning, the city dog came dragging himself over to the farm, and met the neighbor dog. "That runt didn't fight fair - pulled a knife on me!"

The patrol that evening was a bit slower. But it just so happened that a skunk crossed their path...

"Heh! I can see this one ain't got any knives! I'll give him the what-for!"

And before the country dog could get a word in edgewise, the Scotty was off in a black blur, and up in the skunk's face. ...

The next morning, the city dog was a bit slower yet... and a lot stinkier.

"He used tear gas on me! If he had fought even, I would have had him!"

So the two dogs went out again that evening. And what should they run across, but a wolverine...

The country dogs said, "Look, you REALLY don..."

But the Scotty wasn't listening. "This one, I'm going to take!"

And courageously throwing himself forward, one paw over his eyes to ward off the tear gas, the other stretched out to ward of the knives, he lunged at the wolverine...


It was a short, but dignified service.



Moral: It's better to ask some of the questions, than to know all of the answers.