My Kahu calls me Bernard but most of my dog friends call me Big Dawg with a capital D. I can be found hanging on the dog grapevine most days, which I admit is not much different than humans staring at their cell phones like they’re some kinda lifeline. For instance, when Charlie needs to pull himself together and learn there is life beyond the cage where he called home for five years before a family adopted him and opened the back door to a world of grass, I give him little pep talks, like if he listens, he can hear a cricket sneeze, a squirrel cracking nuts, and leaning against the wind will tell him which direction a storm is coming. Charlie, bless his beagle heart, whines every time his toes touch a blade of grass, so a storm would be hurling his body hither and yon while he’s fussing with his feet.

I gotta confess it ain’t easy being a role model. Thinking maybe my Mastiff Mix stature makes me appear to know things. This could be in my sizeable head, but no one really knows what they know until called upon to take action. That’s how come I spend considerable time on the grapevine helping my animal brothers and sisters outta their troubles that most often don’t amount to much except a bad case of nerves usually caused by humans or coyotes living on the periphery.

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