Percy has a lot of friends and isn't one to complain, perhaps the reason for the abundance. On walks he stops to great everyone, even cars idling out in the middle of the street. When mean dogs bark at him he remains perky and untainted, watching as the dog goes off with its embarrassed owner. This reminds me of a dog I met years ago named Zeus. Zeus lived in the mountains of Vermont, part wolf and part really big dog (sorry, I’m not good at remembering dog brand names). My friend, whose name I don’t remember either, frequently took care of other people’s dogs. One afternoon a medium-sized brand dog hopped out of a car, saw Zeus, rolled on his back and peed himself. No hard feelings or complaints. I can’t say this really applies to Percy, but it’s a story I always like to tell.
Percy’s only fault is that he chases squirrels, and sometimes it hurts. You see, Percy is rather big and could easily drag a child behind him like aluminum cans behind a newly married couple and their limo. In short, Percy seems very balanced. He is friendly, exercises often and eats well but not to excess, which altogether may account for why his bowel movements are nothing less than spectacular. Three times a day Percy poops seemingly more than the two large cups of food he has eaten, and produces a consistency and scent not too disagreeable for whomever is picking up after him. Actually, it isn’t hard to feel like Percy struggling to pick up more than one ball at a time, because the shear volume of his excrement takes a deft hand to pick up, as one piece drops out of the bag while reaching to pick up another four. In the world of health, regular, solid, lightly-scented bowel movements are as much a sign of good health as is a bright and clear complexion, without airbrush makeup masking what lies beneath.
So there you have it. Proper diet, exercise and a good attitude are Percy’s secrets for a happy and healthy life, that and an occasional squeaky chew toy. What could be any wiser?