Mistaken Identity

On my walk this morning Mommy and I encountered a neighborhood child. There are four species of neighborhood children. There are the ones who stand on two legs, are very tall, and who know how to pet almost as well as an adult. Then there are the ones who are my size, but stand on two legs. They confuse me. They often are very enthusiastic, but must be guided in petting technique. With them, I am usually made to sit with my back to the child and Mommy holding me tight. The child then pats me very softly on the back. I do a lot of panting during this process.

Those two types of neighborhood children are much less confusing than the other two types. The others are very small. The first of this kind is usually still attached to the chest of its male parent, its forward and hind legs splayed out as if to hug an imaginary bear standing right in front of it. I am scared of this type of animal. I do not trust animals with eight legs. I hide behind Mommy when one comes toward us.

The final species of neighborhood child has wheels. Wheels disturb me. When I was a little puppy I didn't understand bikes. I used to bark at them when they drove by. I still do not like bikes. It is hard to tell when the bike ends and the human begins. I am still not convinced that this is some sort of monster.

This last neighborhood child most often has four wheels, one head, and an appendage which it uses to point. Sometimes it has eight wheels, two heads, and two pointers. The child I encountered today was like this more rare child.

As we were walking the child pointed its appendage at me. Its mommy asked it, "What kind of dog is that?" It responded, "It's a sheep."