













A man walked into the office of an eminent psychiatrist and sat down to explain his problem.
"Doctor, doctor! I've got this problem," the man said. "I keep hallucinating that I'm a dog. It's crazy. I don't know what to do!"
"A common canine complex," said the doctor soothingly. "Relax. Come here and lie down on the couch."
"Oh no, Doctor," the man said nervously, "I'm not allowed up on the furniture."
My wife agrees that I do indeed lead a "dog's life".
The way she puts it though is: "He comes in with muddy feet, makes himself comfortable by the fire, and expects to be fed."
I was in the backyard hanging the laundry when an old, tired-looking dog wandered into the yard. I could tell from his collar and well-fed belly that he had a home. But when I walked into the house, he followed me,
sauntered down the hall and fell asleep in a corner. An hour later, he went to the door, and I let him out. The next day he was back. He resumed his position in the hallway and slept for an hour.
This continued for several weeks. Curious, I pinned a note to his collar:
"Every afternoon your dog comes to my house for a nap. "
The next day the dog arrived with a different note pinned to his collar:
"He lives in a home with 10 children - he's trying to catch up on his sleep."