At a workshop on dog temperament, the instructor noted that a test for a canine’s disposition was for an owner to fall down and act hurt. A dog with poor temperament would try to bite the person, whereas a good dog would lick his owner’s face or show concern.
Once, while eating pizza in the living room, I decided to try out this theory on my two dogs. I stood up, clutched my heart, let out a scream and collapsed on the floor.
The dogs looked at me, glanced at each other and raced to the coffee table for my pizza.
“Has your son decided what he wants to be when he grows up?” I asked my friend.
“He wants to be a garbage man,” he replied.
“That’s an unusual ambition to have at such a young age.”
“Not really. He thinks that garbage men work only on Tuesdays.”
A social worker from Ohio, who was recently transferred to the mountains of North Georgia, was on the first tour of his new territory when he came upon the tiniest cabin he had ever seen in his life. Intrigued, he went up and knocked on the door.
“Anybody home?” he asked. “Yep,” came a kid’s voice through the door.
“Is your father there?” asked the social worker.
“Pa? Nope, he left before Ma came in,” said the kid.
“Well, is your mother there?” persisted the social worker.
“‘Ma? Nope, she left just before I got here,” said the kid.
“But what,” protested the social worker, “are you never together as a family?”
”Sure, but not here,” said the kid through the door. “This is the outhouse.”