I know, I know … dog owners world wide are up in arms over this statement. How dare he say that? MY DOG is the BEST dog … ever. What does he know?!

Starting with my deepest apologies, and with great respect to every wonderful canine out there, allow me explain my reasoning for this otherwise sacrilegious statement for dog owners. Bogart, from an early stage in his puppy life was trained not to bark. Don’t get me wrong – he can, and DOES bark when the occasion warrants: a bird flying by, a stranger at the door, playing with his lifetime companion Ozzie or his pull rope. He certainly knows HOW to bark. However, since Bogart and I have often lived in shared quarters or small apartments, barking was certainly frowned upon. Excessive barking was cause for hanging, and mostly for the dog owner.

So there you have it … from a young age, Bogart learned that barking was a no-no, and yappy noises – no matter how cute or happy – was definitely unforgivable. God love him. Here’s a little side story: I have always been an early riser, and I often enjoy the darkness and silence that accompanies the wee early hours of the morning. And since interior lighting is harsh to the sleepy eyes, I will at times use a candle to illuminate my sitting space. Soft lighting, often times eases you into the day and allows for a more comfortable transition to the morning twilight. Barking, right. I was in my usual early morning mode, slightly paying attention, mostly drinking warm tea.

Unbeknownst to me, the candle had expended itself fairly quickly and the remainder of the wax had been turned into a pool of oily residue at the bottom of the canister – which at this point had become a flaming ball of fire on the coffee table. I was blissfully unaware. Bogart saw the whole thing happening, and was rather concerned at the thought of this flaming ball of fire being so close to the container that held his food. So he did the only thing he could (and was allowed) to do.

He whined. He whined in that urgent way when you are trying to warn someone of some impending doom but can’t say a word.

A loud, humming version of “Look out!” or “Dude! There’s a flaming ball of wax endangering my food supply!” No barking. He knew that he wasn’t supposed to bark that early in the morning, but he knew he had to warn me. So he whined as loud and as urgently as he could. In a matter of seconds, and with every last early morning breath that I could muster, the ball of wax was put to rest.

All that was left was a billow of smoke and Bogart staring at me from the corner of the room – I tried to warn you he seemed to say. “Why didn’t you bark?” I asked him half relieved at the sight of an extinguished fire ball. “I’m not supposed to this early in the morning … ” he seemed to say.

He lived the spirit of his puppy training from long ago, if not the true letter of the law. No barking. I was in awe of my dog. Fair enough. Cookie treats for everyone! He sat there in the aftermath of what would have been an unfortunate house fire, eating his cookie with full satisfaction in knowing that he earned it.

Like I said, best dog, ever.

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