Dogs have no priorities or schedules. You rarely see a dog with a wristwatch. Most things they do they will do anywhere, at any time. Except for the things you teach them not to do: “Laszlo! Don’t ever do that again. If you do I’ll beat the shit out of you!” They do catch on to suggestions like that. But basically, a dog doesn’t care what he does. He’ll simply do whatever’s next. He doesn’t really know what’s next, but he’ll think of something. He might even do two things in a row that don’t go together. Did y’ever see a dog trotting through a room, apparently headed somewhere, and suddenly he stops and chews his back for about eight minutes? As if the whole thing were scheduled for that exact moment? And then finally, when he’s finished chewing, he forgets where he was going in the first place and just sort of looks around, confused. “Let’s see, where was I goin’? Shit, I forget. Seemed important at the time. Well, I guess I’ll just lie down here under this chair. Hey, it’s nice under here. I must do this more often.” He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care.
--A Little Light Buffet--
Like I say, he’ll do anything at any time. He might even embarrass you when you have company. You might have some folks over to the house; folks you don’t know that well; people you’re tryin’ to impress. Hell, you might even be tryin’ to borrow money from one of these assholes. And all these people are sittin’ around the living room, and you’ve put out some chips and a little dip, carrot sticks, maybe a little light buffet, and everybody is eating nicely and chatting politely, and the dog is lying there on the floor, in full view. And suddenly, you glance over, and realize that the dog…is licking…his balls! Vigorously! Big, long, loving licks, in full view of everyone. And no one is saying a word. Remember now, a spectacular thing is taking place: a naked, living creature is administering a modified form of autofellatio in the presence of strangers. Not only is it a spectacular act, it’s difficult to do. If I could do that I’d never leave the house. And yet it goes unremarked. And if someone does say something, it’s usually innocuous. “Look. Isn’t he cute? He’s taking a bath.” “No, Carla, that’s not a bath. That’s called licking your balls. If that’s a bath, I’d have to say it’s a mighty selective one. He’s been on that one spot for over an hour now.” Then the dog trots over and starts to lick your face. “No, no! No, Bruno! Down! Down, Bruno! Nice doggie!” “Oh, don’t worry about it. Don’t you know they have the cleanest mouth of any animal?” “Well, I’m not a chemist, Velma. I’m just basing my judgment on his most recent activity, which you’ll recall was licking his balls.”