"He's Not a Dog, He's a Service Animal!"

Ever since I posted a couple days ago that Duppy is 75 people years old, the thought has been haunting me. The last time I equated his dog years into translated human years we were the same age - kind of a funny realization at the time. My body aches and stupor prefer aspirin and caffine in the morning before functioning. Duppy gets greenies and treats to start his day, but we both start a little more slowly these days. Duppy has always been close to me, but since we started driving on some rather long trips to help him gear up for gypsyhood he doesn't let me out of his sight. We took a few day trips to Massachusetts, to Newport, R.I. for a sailing trip, two weekend camping trips and finally to Florida for almost two weeks - That's when he learned the word "shade" as a kind of a command!!

Since we've been on the road he sleeps in bed almost every night, and I can only remember once I found him konked out under the truck in the morning - blinking at me, stretching and yawning before scrambling with all four feet to an upright position with a flip of his flying tail feathers. It's really cute when they drape over his face. He used to just stand up, but now that he needs more working parts to get going I see all his feet moving. Thinking about it, I don't exactly jump to my feet the way I used to, either, and sometimes even groan when I do. Come to think of it, so does he.

Duppy and I are very good at accommodating each other, and because of that, even before hitting the road I'd been able to make his world almost as large as mine, and mine not at all smaller.When my plans to turn gypsy were formulating, I also had to make plans for Dup. I really don't like it when he has to wait in the car, and since an Endless Summer is a goal, it's gonna be too hot to leave him anywhere. He has to be able to go everywhere I do, or my world is going to be very small. What to do??

I searched on the web and found a company that makes service vests for animals. I bought red one that has "Medical Alert" prominently embroidered in white thread across the center of the vest, a patch that reads "Service Dog," and a Department of Justice photo identification card complete with a website address and phone number that fits into a clear ID window on the side. It's all very official-looking. I memorized his service ID number so that if I have to, I can head off confrontation by handing his ID over and reciting the nine digit number. I've only had to hand over the ID once. It works like a charm, and he gets in everywhere with little ado.

People don't comment on his purported extraordinary ability as a service animal, but they do comment about how very well-behaved and cute he is. Like brother Dave says, "Asking me why I have a service animal is like asking me why I'm black. You're not allowed to do that!" I actually used that line during dealings with a defiant restaurant manager that was intent on giving me a go. Shut him right down. The world is so stupidly politically correct these days, and Duppy's behavior is so impeccably proper, that the service animal bit works immediately almost without question. And so, Duppy will be able to live his years out in splendor with a lifestyle very few dogs experience. Attached below is one of the best doggie stories I've heard. Enjoy!

I have had the below piece for years, but never knew the exact origin of it until recently. It is attributed to Senator George Graham Vest during the 1870 Burden v. Hornsby court case in Warrensburg, Missouri. Sen. Vest's oratory (Below is only a portion of Sen. Vest's speech; the latter half of it has been lost to history.) won the case of Charles Burden, whose favorite dog, Old Drum, had wandered onto the property of Burden's neighbor, Leonidas Hornsby. Hornsby made good his promise to shoot the first dog that wandered onto his property; that dog being Old Drum. He did this even though he had previously hunted with the dog and acknowledged him as one of the best hunters he'd ever seen.

Burden sued Hornsby for damages. Following several appeals, the case reached the Supreme Court of the State of Missouri. Burden received an award of $50.00 in damages for the loss of his canine. The Warrensburg Chamber of Commerce and dog-lovers around the country had erected a statue of Old Drum on the lawn of the Johnson County Courthouse lawn in Warrensburg on September 23, 1958. It is said that this speech provided the origin of the phrase, "A man's best friend is his dog."

he best friend a man has in this world may turn against him and become his enemy.  His son or daughter that he has reared with loving care may prove ungrateful.  Those who are nearest and dearest to us, those whom we trust with our happiness and our good name, may become traitors to their faith.  The money that a man has, he may lose.  It flies away from him, perhaps when he needs it most.  A man's reputation may be sacrificed in a moment of ill-considered action.  The people who are prone to fall on their knees to do us honor when success is with us may be the first to throw the stone of malice when failure settles its' clouds upon our heads.
The one absolutely unselfish friend that man can have in this world, the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or treacherous, is his dog.  A man's dog stands by him in prosperity and poverty, in health and sickness.  He will sleep on the cold ground, when the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely, if only he may be near his master's side.  He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer; he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounter with the roughness of the world.  He guards the sleep of his pauper master, as if he were a prince.When all other friends desert, he remains.  When riches take wings and reputation falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journey through the heavens.
If fortune drives the master forth an outcast in the world, friendless and homeless, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him to guard against danger to fight his enemies; and when the last scene of all comes, and death takes the master in its embrace, and his body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there by the graveside will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad, but open in watchfulness, faithful and true even in death.