Let me pass you a little helpful advice: if it smells bad, it probably is bad. I have spent a life time sniffing around all sorts of things. I can smell a problem from miles away. Sometimes you need to seek out the problem and fix it. Not everyone respects your marked territory.
I’ve been walking these streets for a long time. I’ve walked many streets. It’s bad enough when the construction workers drop the cones to quartering everyone from treading along the sidewalks. My sidewalk! Marking the place before tearing it up and causing serious noise pollution. But to do it for the last three years? Whole months will pass and no one will arrive to do any work. Those are my stomping grounds. I’m barely picking up a scent of what once was me. It has to stop.
Now mind you, I have a mixed background, but I am still a pretty good-looking dog. Not like most people who have a straight inbred line of succession dropped in their laps. People begging and paying top price to be around them. That’s pretty good life when people are paying you to be with them for the rest of your life. That’s a good fifteen years of pampering, for what? Family lineage. Most of them are as dumb as a tennis ball, bouncing off the back fence. All that inbreeding. But I have a smart head on my shoulders. Just ask my counterpart who lives with me.
My counterpart is a well-read individual and can muster up a good legal sandwich of words. He dabbles with the legal affairs. Burdens himself is more accurate. He certainly is persistent. Another piece of advice: if it doesn’t squeak; it’s gone. Humans! Do they even follow or understand their own laws? They have other humans to study up on their laws to dictate to other humans how to follow those laws, and then reinterpret and then change those laws.
Let’s get to the real issue here. We haven’t been here for very long. Maybe too short of a time to be complaining about the ear piercing sounds from the machines or desecration of my stomping grounds. I hear my neighbor dogs complaining with me, as we voice our concern over the tympanic injuries to our sensitive ears! And their counterparts are complaining about our complaints. I do not understand why they are upset with us. Our noises are minor compared to the fart smelling workers and their noxious fumed machines. We spend more time on these streets than our counterparts do. We have every right to voice our concern.
Ownership. A belonging to or possession of property, occupation of property. Because I mark my spot on Fire Hydrant A does not determine I also gain ownership on fire hydrant B.
Territory, a large extent of land, region, district or block. Such as the block I walk. Property, such as the bed I sleep in or the chair I curl up into. Dogs do not have an issue with recognizing each others’ property. They understand the concept of shared property.
Humans quarrel over their shared property and then the property of others and then steal each others’ property. Then find legal precedence to take someone else’s property. When someone intrudes upon my property, I usually snarl and snap at him or take a larger whiz on the fore-mention property. Perhaps my partner warms up the chair, and I use that leftover warmth for myself. But is it my property or his? How does he have imposing rights?
Other dogs recognize each others’ territory and respect that territory. Pro exemplo: (yes I’ve learned some Latin as well) I’m curled in the bed and comfortable among the covers. My human counterpart takes seizure of the wanted bed property. I either have to move over, fighting for my corner of the bed or take refuge on the floor among his dirty socks. Or I can nestle between his legs for the warmth and comfort. With dog patience, anything can happen.
My counterpart spent time buidling a minaiture form of our house in the backyard. After completed, he ignored it. He even placed some of my things inside. That was just rude! I removed them of course. You’d think with all the time that my counterpart spent constructing that quaint domicile that he’d be spending more time asleep back there than in my bed. He marked the structure with his blood and sweat. Even placed his favorite smelly and torn sweater in there with his favorite toy he likes to share with me. I clearly like the oversized soft toy that squeaks. I clearly marked it, and the bed. Typical of humans, to spend an exorbitant amount of time working on something and then utilizing very little of their accomplishment.
He’s staying up longer than what I am used to. I don’t spend so much time napping during the day because I am so old. At night, when my human counterpart is asleep or overdosed on the accumulation of legalese knowledge, I take advantage and begin familiarizing myself with the rights and privileges under their laws. Relatively simple stuff. Why it takes him so long to accomplish the same understanding of knowledge, baffles me. For the superior species on the planet! Playing to their emotions is so easy to get a snack, a walk, a toy, a run or just a solid massage.
It’s all here in black and white. I just discovered that the privileges and immunities clause does not apply to dogs. All this time, thinking I took the necessary steps to mark my territory (according to the law of these people.) In fact, I’ve spent years claiming park meters, hydrants, lawn furniture, hedges…in at least 15 states. I work through the equal protection codes at night, takings and procedural due process argument. I intend to file pro se and informa paw-peris.
My second draft that I tried to file with the county clerk was shredded by my uncontrolled desire to play tug of war. No matter! Filing this paperwork is a breeze even without the over-rated opposable thumb. The first daft was ruined by my original signature. Note: urine is not an accepted form of signature for these people.
What is this? Explanation of exemptions, seller’s disclosure notice, residential contract, homebuyer’s inspection, transcript, US urban development…wait that’s not our address. We’re moving! New stomping grounds! New smells! New ladies. Growl and smack. My tweeters may be snipped, but my nose and masculine drive is not. Well, I won’t need this draft. Might as well tear it up to tiny shreds.
“What? I’m tearing up this paper, human. What are you doing? Hey, I’m tearing that up. What are you upset about? I’m destroying the evidence. Certainly this is more efficient than that grinding machine you use to shred your own documents. Don’t be angry with me. If you had just let me in on the secret. Of course it smells, I signed it. Fine. But I get the bed this time.” By
CJ Kuehler
