“I’m thinking of getting a dog.” Conversation at the big, round table occupying center stage at the diner needed a kick-start. Harrison Winkle tossed out this conversational tid-bit, just to see who would bite.

“I don’t like pets. They stink up the house and then demand to go outside and leave even stinkier gifts in the back yard.” Jimmy was the first to rain on Harry’s pet parade. “I don’t see the sense in spending all that money on shots and kibble, just to maintain a fecal factory.” It was obvious that Jimmy had been reading his Thesaurus, again.

“A dog can be a very good security alarm.” Nothing happens on Mort’s side of town without triggering his canine early warning system. Someone, three blocks away, could think about taking a walk past Mort’s house and his pedigree impaired, two and a half pound, miniature hairless monster, wannabe canine will start yapping and snarling from under the couch. It might sound ferocious, but it doesn’t take much out of you when it bites. Although, it does take a lot of bites.

“If I need a security system, I’ll go to Walmart and get the best equipment a little bit of money can buy. Then, I’ll know who robbed me.” Jimmy would rather have a fuzzy, black and white, digital image of would be thieves that might not stand up in court — than have a fuzzy, mud colored, mongrel of questionable lineage that can stand up straight (with room to spare) while snarling from under the end table.

“I’d rather have a cat,” offered Tommy Jones, the elder statesman of the group. “Owning a cat is like parenting driving-age teenagers. You put out food and clean their toilet. Maybe you’ll see them – maybe you won’t. It all depends on their mood.”

“I like having a parakeet for a pet,” mused Arnold Tobin. “It repeats everything it hears me say. We’ve had some very fascinating conversations.”

The dialog spun around the table, as each member of the Circular Congregation offered his thoughts on the best pet to have (or not have).

“Fish are the best pets – they don’t eat much and you never have to give them a bath.”

“We have a deer that eats the plants in my wife’s flower garden. She thinks it’s cute — I’m thinking about Nov. 15.”

“I’d like to have Sasquatch for a pet.” Big John Hudson could always be counted on for taking the conversation to extremes. “They’re a much better security system than Mort’s yapping trip hazard and Jimmy’s discount surveillance contraption, combined. More importantly, I’d really like to take it on in a game of chess.”

“Sasquatches don’t play chess.” Harry tossed out this observation even though he had no proof that he was right. He felt reasonably certain that no one else had proof that he was wrong.

“That’s why I’d like to take it on in a game of chess – I think I could win.”

 

Larry Wilson is a mostly lifelong resident of Niles. His optimistic “glass full to overflowing” view of life shapes his writing. His essays stem from experiences, compilations and recollections from friends and family. Wilson touts himself as “a dubiously licensed teller of tall tales, sworn to uphold the precept of ‘It’s my story; that’s the way I’m telling it.’” He can be reached at wflw@hotmail.com.