Big Daddy Canis

It's Friday and that means time to harvest another sacrifice to appease the shipping gods. Assistant street urchin Larry, prepare the orphan chipper! Make haste, make haste! As that stuporous half-wit readies the infernal device, a brief tale of another orphan, of the four legged variety. Yesterday morning before lunch, I pointed out a hapless dog lying down underneath a semi truck in our shipping dock. "Perhaps that cur would make an appropriate sacrifice to the shipping gods? How but it old chum?" As luck would have it, the young pooch ventured into the warehouse through an open door and quickly befriended the shipping staff (except Mark, who makes Clint Eastwood in "Fist Full Of Dollars" look like Mr. Freaking Rogers). After much head scratching and pow-wowing followed by an ether-induced hallucination bout, we decided to put our newfound castaway in the second break room with a blanket for resting and bowl of water for water-bowling. More calls were made but canis novus was without a home. Finally, after much soul-searching (for those of us who have one, I'm looking right at you Geoff in receiving! No wonder you never appear in photographs), Ian Foyster said, "Alightalllltekth'yoongpoop'omw'mayt'li'on'm'fahmw'm'uhohses" (All right, I'll take the young pup home with me to live on my farm with my horses!" Hooray! A happy ending, except for the hapless orphans. Alas, street urchin Larry is giving me the thumbs up. Fire up the chipper you skirt-wearing poodle walker!!! There are gods to be apppeased!!!

(Woof!)