By Lynn Moncus
The slave is still trying to set clocks so I, Aggie, will visit with you for a nice change. Of course, I never quite understand why she feels the need to change the clocks because that just upsets our schedules and causes both of us to be just a bit short tempered.
She tried to explain the reason for playing with those clocks twice a year, but that made no sense to me. She said something about saving daylight that led me to believe she needed more help than I had realized. How could anyone save daylight? She then mentioned that by changing the time, we would have an extra hour of daylight. Now, such a remark frightened me because she should know that we have nothing to do with how much or how little daylight we have and that we can’t possibly have an extra hour of anything. I am more worried than ever about her thinking ability.
Finally, I decided that she likes to torture both of us by resetting the clocks and just didn’t want to tell me because she feared I would turn her in to the authorities for cruelty to animals. I should turn her in anyway because she really wrecks my normal schedule by making me wait for meals or by feeding me too early. Last Sunday, she even made me wait an extra hour before taking me for our drive in the country and then kept me out until almost sundown. The only good thing that happened that day was that she slept an hour longer than usual and let me enjoy that extra hour as well.
As I watch the two-footed animals, I really wonder why they pretend to be so superior to those of us who are well grounded. They tend to talk all the time and say very little; whereas, we bark when we need to and remain silent the rest of the time. They try to boss us around in order to show their superiority, but we really have them fooled because they almost always do as we tell them even though we may not say much. They don’t realize we really are in charge, or they might decide to pay closer attention to our lessons and become rather intelligent.
Just watching the slave decide what to wear every morning is one of the most tiring chores I have. She dashes to the closet at a snail’s pace, flings items here and there, and then goes in to take a shower. She wastes all that water and doesn’t look any better when she gets out and certainly doesn’t improve when she gets dressed. I just get up, go outside to do my morning chores, come in to eat breakfast, go back outdoors to roll in the grass, and I’m ready for the day. Can you just imagine me with makeup slathered all over my face? Well, I probably wouldn’t look any worse than the slave, but I’d have to roll in the grass some more in order to get it off.
I see some strange-looking dogs on TV who wear clothing and even nail polish or ribbons in their hair. No doubt, their slaves think they are doing them a favor, but it they were to ask those creatures what they thought, they’d learn much in very simple terms. Trying to please the slaves is a big job, but we do that in order to let them believe they are in charge. Actually, the slaves are really here to please us.