Send In The Clowns – Epic Tales About Canines

by Chris Robinson

Not long ago, several of us were sitting around talking about dogs. Dog people in general like to do this and people who hunt with their dogs are especially prone to telling epic tales about their canine partners in much the same way, I suspect, as the ancient Greeks and Romans used to sit around telling stories about their great warriors. But this is not a story like the Iliad, Odyssey or even Aeneid. It’s not something Homer or Virgil would have written but rather like the works of Aristophanes, Pautus and Terence in that it doesn’t chronicle heroic deeds but rather the humorous ones and the dogs that have been canine incarnations of Jack Benny, Bob Hope, Bob Newhart and Laurel and Hardy or maybe The Three Stooges. These dogs, often with perfectly sane, dignified parents, have had as their personal theme song, “Let Me Entertain You.”

People who have never spent any time around dogs have a hard time believing that a dog could have a sense of humor. But, dog people who have ever done anything with their dogs in the field or in performance activities know better. Some dogs are just clowns. They hunt, run agility courses, dive off docks, herd livestock, pull carts–many are very good at their jobs–but they live for the laughs. One of my dogs, Mike, was definitely one born to wear the cap and bells of a jester.

Mike was a big Chesapeake Bay Retriever with the sort of easy amiability that’s often present in big men. When you’re big, you can come across as gentle and nobody will mistake you for a wimp. I would guess that Mike could have fought if circumstances had forced him to do so but he was a party animal, not a fighter. He had a good nose and awesome abilities as a retriever when he chose to display them but he mainly was in tune with his personal muse, Thalia, the daughter of Zeus who presided over comedy in ancient Greece.

Mike was never content to just do the basic meat-and-potatoes dog work expected of retrievers. A life consisting of hundreds of straightforward, competent retrieves was not for him. Bringing in ducks and geese and finding and bringing in pheasants and quail to the hand of a moderately grateful owner in return for an “attaboy” was not something to stir Mike’s soul. He wanted bigger things and, like amateur actors who envision accepting an Oscar or Tony award somewhere in their future, Mike saw himself as a budding legend.

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Posted by Alex on Jul 2 2019. Filed under Current Articles, Featured. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. Both comments and pings are currently closed.