NOTE: USE DOGGIE SKETCH
It was another Sunday morning and I was comfortably ensconced in a chair with a cup of coffee, the morning’s newspaper and my dog, MJ, at my feet. “Shame on you MJ,” I said, “we had two rats in the house and you couldn’t sniff them out. Luckily for you, I single-handedly chased one out last night, but the second fellow is still around.”
“What? We have a rodent in the house?” MJ asked with trepidation. “Why didn’t you complete the job?”
“It wasn’t easy, you know,” I shot back, “with you sleeping like a log.”
“Chasing rats is not part of my job profile,” he replied. “If you want to catch rats, get a cat.”
“If you haven’t noticed, I am a dog person,” I said.
“Thank God for that,” he said, “but right now we have a crisis. I will not be able to sleep with a rat in the house. You have to do something ASAP.”
“What are you going to do about it?” I asked.
“There is no time for a debate,” he said, “this is not a gram sabha. We need the man in the house to rescue us all from this rodent. By the way, you might need a dose of Meldonium.”
“Have you lost your mind?” I asked, “are you aware of the side-effects of taking such a drug.”
“Well, Maria Sharapova has been taking it for 12 years and see where she reached,” said MJ. “All you have to do is slam the rat … or grand slam the rat … and then go through detox.”
“I could be banned from slamming rats, should I get caught,” I said.
“You think the IOC or the World Anti-Doping Agency would care if you take Meldonium to slam a few rats,” MJ said with a hint of sarcasm. “Besides, slamming rats is not an Olympic sport. It’s more of a rural pastime.”
“I was more worried about the animal rights people,” I said.
“Rats have rights?” asked MJ with surprise. “I thought only dogs had rights. This is so humbling.”
“What do I do?” I asked.
“I have an idea,” said MJ. “You see, Meldonium was legal until December 31, 2015. So you go ahead and slam the rat and then back-date the paper work.”
“You should join the government, you know,” I said. “You have a knack for these things.”
“Thank you. I have another idea,” MJ said. “If the animal rights people or the anti-doping sleuths turn up at our doorstep all you have to say is you forgot to read the email. It worked for Sharapova.” He would do anything to avoid doing his job. “I hope you do not have any deal with Nike or Porsche, because it would really hurt to lose that.”
“No, I don’t,” I sneered.
“Just checking,” he muttered, “I don’t want to end up on the poor side of the street.”
