A few years ago my mother-in-law had a somewhat hilarious dream in which my father-in-law had a secret room that contained all the "toys" he had wanted but been unable to buy. His prized possession in the secret room was a Mazda Miata. The dream has since become a family joke and has provided us with much fun.
I have come to believe that our dog must have a secret dog house similar to my father-in-laws secret room in which she keeps all sorts of doggy riches. I know that you're wondering where in the world a dog would get the kind of money one would need for that sort of secret place, unless of course I am going to confess to being rich enough to give my dog money. I am not that kind of rich, nor that kind of crazy, but one KC area judge apparently was.
About a year and a half ago my husband and I decided to buy a Jeep Wrangler. We ended up purchasing the Jeep from an elderly gentleman at a small used car dealer north of the river. During the transaction the salesman shared with us that he only worked to stay active; he had retired from the railroad as an engineer many years ago and his pension provided very well for both him and his wife. When one of us (probably me) mentioned our dog, he shared with us that he and his wife had adopted a golden retriever from a vet a few years back. They chose the dog simply because it was gentle and had a hip problem; so it would not be able to jump their low fence.
He continued to tell us that six months after the adoption they received a call from a local bank looking for the dog. The banker revealed that the dog had once belonged to a wealthy judge. The judge had his estate divided in half when he passed away; half of the money went to a local Catholic school, the other half went in a trust at the bank for the dog! The dog was drawing a good deal of interest and the bank needed to know where to send the checks. As it turned out, the dog had more money than we do (and probably most of us combined), but the trust was to be donated to the school at the dog's death. In the meantime, the dog became the "Santa" of the northland and donated the interest to every cause the owners saw fit. He even sponsored a couple of little league teams that he sent to the national championships. The dog was in the process of setting up a scholarship fund at the Catholic school when we bought our Jeep.
Keva, our dog, is not so lucky. She does, however, really like the Jeep; it provides for even better windy rides than our last convertible. I am convinced that her secret dog house is stocked by the riches she earns in her secret modeling career. The Kleenex Cottonelle puppy looks exactly like her when she was little. Other advertisements for just about everything have included the likeness of our dog. One commonly appears in the Sunday paper coupons and shows her on a nice oriental rug. She hasn't denied modeling, but she hasn't confessed yet either. I think this is due to a lack of language skills.
She must sneak out either during the night when we are asleep or during the school year when we are both at work. I imagine that she has enough money to have a limo come and pick her up. She goes to the shoot, does some doggy shopping, and then, maybe, goes to visit or have lunch with one of her doggy model friends. I wonder if she confesses getting into the trash to eat moldy cheese and used kleenexes, or is that taboo in doggy model circles? Do they giggle like teenagers or are they psuedo high society types like the Hiltons? (That makes you wonder how a dog would fare on the new Hilton reality show...) Then her limo bring her home where she stashes any purchases in her secret dog house and heads down stairs to her kennel. No wonder she looks so tired when we get home!
What I really want to know is where she's hiding all the stuff, and when she's planning on paying us. She definately needs to pay up for all the room, board, vet bills, and city licenses. I won't charge her for the walks and runs though, that's just time spent with a good friend.