Cumberland Times-News

Maude McDaniel - Living

June 4, 2011

Better not read this if you don’t like puns

— Ewe otter know by now how much I love animals. Lemming tell you, I don’t want to boar you, but any time you want to weasel your way into my good graces, I’m a sucker for dog stories.

No, I don’t want you to toady up to me, just come right out and tell me about your dog. Or cat, of course. Before you know it. I’ll be lapin it up. Just pony up your pet story and I might even be able to whippet into shape for this column someday.

Sometimes I feel sheepish about my love for animals, because, of course, not even dogs are perfect, as deer as they are. Some have no problem piscine all over the place, while others badger their humans for treats all the time, until you can hardly bear them.

Most of them wolf down their food with no table manuls at all. (Hey, it’s in the book, so I’m using it). A few will squirrel away food for rainy dace, while many of them gobbler down everything they find pasang by.

Not to snipe about it, but when did people get so gullible that they started to swallow the idea that animals don’t have feelings like people do? Owl tell you one thing, I’ve had eight dogs in my lifetime, and every one of them had more feelings than Osama Bin Llama, so there.

The big wahoos of science don’t like to anthropomorphize animals. That’s their bully word for crowing about how people like to find human qualitites in animals, and they grouse about it all the time. I think they’re carping about the fact that most scientists believe in some fluke of evolution (as I do in general), that turns out very different creatures, all of whom ahare their bassic condition of existence. It sounds aukward to me, but they seem to be saying that it’s OK to say that people are like animals, but not that animals are like people. Hmmm, some underlying lynx of logic are missing there.

But then all of us are skateing on thin ice, as far as animals are concerned. We like them in their plaice, which is heron earth with us, but we are not on good terns with them anymore. We think an ocelot more about ourselves than we do about them.

I suppose I’ll cachalot of grief just because I believe animals do have feelings. I’m sika tired of herring that they don’t. They can’t put their paws on them but they ferret them out somehow. I don’t want to flounder around too much here, but I’m shrewed enough to notice that, moray and moray, Rusty likes to be with peba-l. Open the back door, and indigoes right away into the house. So much for the rabbits and deer and mice and neighbor dogs outside.

Canary of my readers bat an ayeaye about the hardest problem for an animal-lover?

It’s being a carnivore. I get ticked off at people who pig out on meat and rail at vegetarians, as much as I do at the vegetarians who harrier meat-eaters, a habit which is after all a human inhareitance. I vulture to say that I duck the whole argument myself. (I do apologize to the animal I’m eating though.)

The cardinal rule in life is simply to be porpoiseful. Don’t be bittern or boa-ing, but have good in-tench-ions. Don’t lark around or go puffin yourself up, or be a piker or a sloth, or wallaby the wayside. You toucan goby the straight way. That bugs some and buffaloes the rest. And cut the crappie.

Cruelty toward animals really gets my goat. I know that’s not gnu; for years I’ve wanted to gopher anybody who mistreats them — and I’m not lion. I assume both of my rheaders feel the same way. I’d like to give a shiner to anyone I see hurting innocent creatures.

I think koala the time about how innocent animals are. What a shame some people gannet ever egret human cruelty to them, like dog racers, rodeo performers, and matadors. Albatross Perot himself was never so bullheaded. I am not chewink out my readers about this — I know you both horse around a lot, but I would never accuse you of robin Peter to pay Poll, even if I were raven mad.

Before iguana my way, I must say one moa thing, and then I’ll stop yakking.

I’ve had a whale of a time, but after this column, I think I’m going to have to take it on the lamb, for a few days. (That is, vamoose.)

And not a marmot too soon!

Maude McDaniel is a Cumberland freelance writer. Her column appears on alternate Sundays in the Times-News.

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Maude McDaniel - Living
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