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Some dogs are full-time professionals
SLIM RANDLES

"You have to admire professionalism wherever you find it," Doc said, settling in at the philosophy counter of the Mule Barn. "When I was a kid, I remember my dad telling me he didn't really care what I did for a living as long as I did my best at whatever it was, and that it was something I loved doing."

Dud and Steve nodded.

"Well, you're certainly a professional, Doc," said Steve. "And we do admire it."

Doc, who has more initials behind his name than the rest of us in the world dilemma think tank, looked surprised. Then he began laughing.

"I say something funny?" Steve, our resident cowboy who looks like an owl on steroids, asked.

"I wasn't referring to me," Doc said. "But thanks for the compliment. I was talking about Brownie."

Brownie is Doc's dog.

He has kinda short legs, the head of a German shepherd, the torso of a dachshund, and the milk of canine kindness of a meter maid. He protects what is his, and if Brownie likes you, you're his.

Brownie wandered into Doc's life one day and settled in.

Doc told us he was an Egyptian shepherd. He explained that he learned this because Brownie was so good at making pyramids in the back yard.

"So Brownie's a professional?" Dud asked.

"The very finest," Doc said. "You know how he protects the yard and the house and the cat and everything, right?"

"Right," said Steve. "That dog'd charge hell with a damp sponge."

"Exactly. So this morning I heard him barking his brains out in the back yard and looked out and he was looking straight up. Turns out he was protecting his air space from a Boeing 737."

"Flying over, you mean?"

"Yep," Doc said.

"That's what I meant about professionalism. It worked, too. That plane never got closer than 35,000 feet to his yard."

Brought to you by "Sun Dog Days," at www.slimrandles.com, soon to be a minor motion picture.