It looks like your votes have helped the “Grandmother Dearest” essay sneak its way- temporarily at least – into the top 100 entries in the Consumer Cellular contest. It’s at the bottom of the list of 100, but the votes seem to keep slowly nudging it upward. If you’re the one responsible, please keep doing it.
As usual, all you have to do to VOTE TODAY AND EVERY DAY TILL AUGUST 11, is just put your little mouse where it can do its stuff and click HERE.
With that out of the way, we can go to the dogs.
I’ve heard that all dogs go to heaven, but I’m not sure I believe that. What about pit bulls? What about dogs that chew up everybody’s shoes, or poop on the living room rug? How about dogs that jump up on the kitchen counter when you’re not looking and eat butter and cake and other not-for-dogs stuff? How about those guys, huh?
A farmer named Muldoon lived alone in the Irish countryside except for a pet dog he had for a long time.
The dog finally died and Muldoon went to the parish priest, saying “Father, the dog is dead. Could you possibly be sayin’ a Mass for the poor creature?”
Father Patrick told the farmer “No, we can’t have services for an animal in the church, but I’ll tell you what, there’s a new denomination down the road apiece, and no telling what they believe in, but maybe they’ll do something for the animal.”
Muldoon said “I’ll go right now, Father. By the way, do you think $50,000 is enough to donate for the service?”
Father Patrick replied “Why didn’t you tell me the dog was Catholic?”
So there you are. The moral of this story, my child, is always be flexible! Unless . . .
Well, there are always exceptions.