The Tongue

I don't think I classify as an animal lover. Sure, I appreciate the beauty of nature and the animals that dwell therein. But in general I like cats. And that's pretty much it. I do tolerate dogs, don't get me wrong, and I've even learned to like and appreciate some of the dogs that I have gotten to know. But there are some dogs that I struggle to like. Dogs that seem to go out of their way to annoy me. A prime example of this is the basset hound. My first experience with a basset hound was when I was sitting somewhere, casually working on my laptop, and the sound of scrabbling paws reaches my ears. I look up and there, seemingly suspended in mid-air, was a basset hound on a flying trajectory to my lap.

Now, before I make up my mind about any dog, I have to meet them and get to know them first. Having one the size of a small rhino making an unannounced landing on my lap is definitely not my idea of a first meeting. That encounter already gave me an uneasy feeling about basset hounds. So it was with some trepidation that I found out that my future brother-in-law had acquired one. He called it Bones. And for some reason, known only to him, he loves it dearly. I do not. After my first encounter with it I promptly renamed it The Tongue. It seems to derive a great amount of pleasure chasing you around the house trying to sniff and/or lick you. It once chased me around their kitchen trying desperately to lick my ankles (in retrospect wearing sandals to their home might have been a bad idea). It finds feet and exposed skin irresistible! And for some reason it has a tongue that appears to be longer than the dog itself. How it fits that sizable (drooling) tongue into its mouth remains a mystery. Maybe they should invite over a few scientists in HazMat suits to find out.

To me a basset hound is like a cartoon character that has come to life. It seems impossibly droopy and floppy with a tongue that is longer than the Nile River, and just as wet. And yet it is blessed with an almost inexhaustible level of energy. And does it use this endless supply for the greater good? No! It uses it to chase you around the house in a crazy bid to lubricate your ankles! Or to chew whatever it can find. I'm pretty sure that the stomach lining of the average basset hound consists of die-cast titanium! It will eat rocks, plastic bottles, clothing, yellow-cake uranium and other miscellaneous items and still be perfectly fine! It proves my theory that it is a living cartoon character time and time again.....