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This Is No Shaggy Dog Story—Tab Hunter

All that talk and I can’t get in one bark! The whole fireworks was over me, but who came and asked what I thought? Those judges and juries and reporters—if they were smart they’d say, “Fritz, let’s sit down and talk about this thing with you and Tab Hunter.” What’s this discrimination against talking to dogs? And I’d tell them everything. . . . I’d admit I find Tab a great responsibility, which any good dog does in bringing up a man. He eats all wrong—can you imagine cooking meat ? . . . He works too hard—why do people talk about working like a dog? . . . If I don’t growl that my ears are killing me, he turns the hi-fi too loud. . . .

He can’t jump a wall without a horse under him. . . . But conceited? Stand-offish? Where do humans get their ideas? A brute to me ? Hah! I weigh almost as much as he does and my teeth are sharper. A dog can take care of himself. . . . What I say is: People don’t understand other people like a dog does. So I don’t think they’re qualified to judge—except maybe dog shows. I wish everyone who came in on the tail end of this story would just look at our pictures, and see how we get along, Tab and I. And let’s hope it’s the end of the tail—I mean tale.



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