A dozen days, traveling cross country with an elderly white guy, would be hell without a few treats. So provided is a photo of me enjoying a favorite snack; the chicken-flavored fudgesicle.

I’ve always enjoyed reading and writing essays, so I plan to share thoughts with you. Even though as dogs, sub-species canus verycoolis, we rarely speak directly to owners, I often converse with friends in the animal world. An example follows. We have entered New Mexico, the Land of Enchantment, which, I don’t find particularly enchanting with no welcome center nearby. Better however than a Texas facility near El Pisso which exhibits this disgusting sign below:

Gives new meaning to the worn-out Texas cliche, “Hook’em Horns”.

The ceremonial photo-op under the sign. We stop at the historic ghost town, Steins, New Mexico. No dog cemetery, no milkbones, no squirrels, no girls, and only one donkey. Fortunately the donkey was quite literate and we discussed John Steinbeck’s, “Travels with Charley”. He also wanted to talk about Faust’s ‘Remembrance of Things Past’ that he had just finished but bores me to the point where I wanted to look for something, anything, vertical to pee on. So I changed the subject to class basketball in Arizona, which really piqued the burro’s interest. He was not, however, familiar with Ralph Laurens’ continued use of the polo pony as an unpaid advertising icon, although he did admit to lusting over a wolf he once met in the desert. Evidently he watches too much cable-TV and confessed an addiction to “Monk” re-runs on the USA network. My intervention with this burro was unsuccessful because he felt he would enjoy the show even more if they had named it “Donk” instead of “Monk”. But donkeys, what can you expect, they’re all a bunch of asses.

(‘ did you hear the one about this donkey and a dog that go into a bar and ask the bartender if he knows how to make a Moscow Mule ?’………) Oh well, I’m busy now, but I’ll write again. My next column will be about meeting, up close and personal, a large extended family of fire ants and how it made me re-think the judicial process. In the interim, consider sending some gourmet dog treats my way. I’ll forward my p.o. box number, privately, on request. JACK