Talking Dog

talking dog

My dog loves doing his DeNiro impression.

Special Dog

I adopted a dog from a store that sells pets with special needs. My dog watches soap operas.

My Pet

I brought home my first pet – a dog. I got him from a world famous chef so he’s housebroken and can cook. He’s making me spaghetti for dinner.

Friend’s Dog

My friend published his dog’s autobiography – “My Life on Paws”. I read it. I’m not talking in front of that animal anymore.


I’m economizing. I trained my dog to give me a haircut. Now I look like a French poodle.

Talking Dog

talking dog

My dog loves doing his DeNiro impression.


I never owned a dog and didn’t want to make a commitment, so I bought one from a store that guarantees it will run away after 30 days.

My Brother, The Baker

My brother, a baker, sold a specialty line of exploding birthday cakes. Imagine his surprise when he bought a dog from a store that specialized in exploding pets.

Stock Market

I made a fortune in the stock market thanks to my dog. I’d mention a particular stock and if he barked once, I’d buy it. Twice, I wouldn’t.

From my book Good Morning: Your Guide to Utter Nonsense Available on Amazon.

Here Fido!

“Tom’s dog died,” said Paul, Tom’s brother. Paul was sitting on his porch, quietly rocking the October evening away.
“No!” replied Jim, a friend. “He loved that animal. How long did he have that dog?”
“About 15 years.”
“So what’d he do? Bury him in his backyard?”
“No. Tom figured on a pet cemetery.”
“You don’t say.” said Jim.
“To start, Tom made the coffin for his dog. He wrapped Fido up in aluminum foil to contain any bad odor. He laid the dog in the coffin. He lit candles and had a CD playing the dog’s favorite song, Elvis singing ‘Hound Dog’.
“Then he arranged for a wake with animals. There must’ve been about 20 cats and dogs and a bunch of parakeets yaking away. And Tom tried training one parakeet to deliver the eulogy. His dog loved birds and Tom thought it would’ve been nice but the bird just kept saying, ‘You’re going to hell! You’re going to hell!’ It belonged to a minister.
“The next day Tom called the pet cemetery and made arrangements for burial but the place couldn’t accept delivery for 2 days. In the meantime, Tom kept the dog, now wrapped in 3 layers of aluminum foil, in his freezer. He forgot to tell his wife when she reached in and pulled out the dog thinking it was a steak all ready for the oven. Two hours later it was cooked. Luckily Tom found out before his wife took a bite. He decided to put the dog in a safety deposit box in a bank.
“When Friday came and it was time to take the dog to the cemetery, Tom went to the bank to discover that the IRS had a court order to open up box 163 but mistakenly opened up 164 which was Tom’s. Well, they were pretty surprised to find a cooked dog inside.
“The bank employees had disposed of the dog by putting it into a trash compactor. Tom explained the situation and the dog was returned, but it had been squeezed down to half its former size.
“Tom took Fido, put it in a bag and left. He returned to his car and when he got there a mugger robbed him at gunpoint taking his wallet and the bag. Tom tried telling the thief that there was nothing but a dead dog inside but the crook took it anyway. Can you imagine the look on that guy’s face when he opened the bag?” laughed Paul.
“Anyway,” he continued, “when Tom returned home the police called him and said they got the thief and he could pickup his bag. Tom rushed over, claimed his bag and dog and headed to the pet cemetery. This time he finally made it.
“He was asked a lot of questions by the cemetery owners why the dog was cooked, compacted and wrapped in foil and Tom explained everything. The burial was arranged for Sunday so Tom went home happy. However, on Saturday, he got a call from the manager of the cemetery. They had made a mistake and cremated the dog, but the mistake was discovered in time so only half the dog was cremated.
“Tom was very depressed at this point. All he could say was, ‘My dear Fido. My dear Fido. What have they done to you?’
“Then Sunday morning came and as he was getting ready to leave for the burial service, he got another call from the cemetery manager. This time they said they the dog had somehow got mixed in with some paper documents that were headed for an industrial shredder and, well, you know . . .  at that point, Tom had a nervous breakdown.”
“Did they finally bury the dog?” asked Jim.
“Yea, in pieces. Tom never made it though. He was in the hospital at the time. His wife is talking about getting him another dog soon hoping that’ll help him get better.”
“Yea, it might,” said Jim.