On Monday, I was meandering through my neighbourhood on my way home from work when I saw a sign taped to a lamp post – LOST Golden Doodle. Underneath there was a picture of a dog.
First I thought, 'aww.'
Second I thought, 'Well I’d run away too if you called me a Doodle.'
A doodle is the absent-minded squiggle your pencil leaves on your notepad while you are trying to think of an excuse to escape a terribly dull meeting in the boardroom, not what a breed of hybrid dog should be named. I know, someone thought it sounded cute. But that someone did not think that one day that poor puppy would be sitting up in doggie heaven around a table with other dog spirits - playing poker (of course) - and one dog would pipe up and say, “Back on Earth, I was a Great Dane. It was a glorious existence, my mere presence demanded respect, I stood tall and I was admired by the world.”
The spirit next to him would then say, “I was a Rottweiler. I wasn’t vicious, but I didn’t have to be – no one messed with me because they knew if the need arose I could tear them to shreds.”
The third dog-spirit would follow with, “I spent my days as a Golden Retriever. I rescued children and invoked great pride in everyone around me.”
And then, “I was a Doodle.”
“No, no, a DOODLE. Like a scribble, but more ferocious...”
Nothing more would be heard over the laughter.
Did the dog-breed-namer guy not think about this at all?
I thought about it.
Then I took a crisp piece of stark white paper, drew a fancy doodle with a goldish yellow marker and delivered it to the address on the sign.