The Buck Stops 0

Many years ago, back when I lived in Delaware and worked in Philadelphia, we purchased a Yorkie puppy from an Amish farmer in Lancaster County, Pa. (I know the farmer was not running a puppy mill, as the puppy was roaming free in his yard, as was the puppy’s mother, who came over to wish him good-bye before we loaded him into the car and drove off.)

The puppy grew up to be a good and valued member of the family and a constant source of love and joy. As our other dog at the time was a Black Lab, Tucker the Yorkie eventually convinced himself that he also was a Black Lab, but that is a whole bunch of other stories. Like the time we had a foot and a half of snow and Beau the Black Lab jumped into it and frolicked about. Tucker the Yorkie jumped in after him and disappeared.

Which reminds me that Beau the Black Lab used to play with Mittens the Cat. Mittens would be lying in her favorite chair at the kitchen table; Beau would come up and stick his nose up so she could slap at it. As long as she kept slapping at it, he kept waving it about. He was a kind and good-hearted dog . . . but I digress.

Anyway, what prompted me to remember Tucker the Yorkie was this:

The check we wrote to pay for Tucker the Yorkie did not bounce, unlike the check that George Santos wrote when he bought dogs from an Amish farmer.

Aside:

I pity those dogs.