Our society has become so affluent that status symbols are a thing of the past. There’s just nothing left for folks who would like to “put on the dog,” as they used to say.

We used to be able to assess a person’s financial status by what they owned, but we can’t do that anymore. One of my favorite songs contains the lines, “He bought her a big ol’ racehorse and a funny-lookin’ little dog/He sits in his Jacuzzi and watches the sun go down.”

Owning a horse wasn’t any big thing when most of the country lived on farms, and when people had to sit in a tub in the kitchen, they would have given anything for a shower. Nowadays, everybody wants to take a bath on the porch. And many of them do!
Nobody had those funny-looking little dogs when we lived in the country. That’s because we always had some big dogs for chasing cows and hunting coons, and the big dogs would use the little ones for dusters. A fluffy, little dog got worn out in a hurry.

Now we see funny, little dogs everywhere, but I still can’t tell what they’re for. Most of them won’t even dust.

I’ve always thought a dog has to be good for something. He’s got to be big enough to bite a cow, dumb enough to chase rabbits or ugly enough to scare burglars. A dog has to have purpose if he’s ever going to amount to anything.

A visit with some friends reminded me of the thing that bothers me most about those fuzzy little pooches: It’s their attitude. These dogs are so small a person tends to ignore their actions. Then the dog develops all sorts of personality disorders.

They’re like kids. Whereas an outsider can tell immediately what’s wrong with them, the family never seems to catch on. So we have this curly-haired little dog jumping up and down on the bed, just daring someone to try to stop him.

I’d stop him, if he were mine. I’d put Velcro on the ceiling.
I’ve had dogs that would jump on guests and things, but they were always sorry.

I can’t stand a dog that isn’t sorry for what he does – one that dares you to throw him off the bed, or jumps out of the pickup when you tell him to. A truly sorry dog will make you throw him out.
The fuzzy little pooch my friends have is kind of special, though. She can sing. It’s true! I saw her do it. The friend’s wife just says, “Peggy, sing! Sing, Peggy.” Then, the wife throws her head back and says, “Owooh! Owoo-owoh! Ow-ow-ow!”

Pretty soon the dog stops jumping on the bed. Then she throws her head back and sings, “Owoo-owooh! Owooooh! Owoo-owooh!” It’s the darnedest thing you ever saw.

I’ve seen a lot of strange things in my life – but how a fuzzy little dog can teach a woman to sing beats the heck out of me.

Readers with questions or comments for Roger Pond may write to him in care of this publication.