The Truth About Cats And Dogs

On a summer night, circa 1992, the Royal Father has just picked my brother and I up from Six Flags, where we had both been working. Todd Rundgren was on the radio via WXFB (aka "The Fox"), and we were talking about getting another family dog.

A mix of your servant's favourite music
and moves, set to stories and observations.

Dad has been set on getting another dog, even though the Queen Mother has done her best to talk him out of it.

I made another suggestion: "What about a cat?"

"Cats are snotty!" my brother grumbled.

"Cats aren't appreciative," added the Royal Father.

So much for that idea. Some time later, we had a black-and-white English Springer Spaniel puppy in the house. Dad dubbed him Toby after the dog in the Sherlock Holmes' story "The Sign Of Four."

I think the Queen Mother would've still preferred a cat. We had to cat-sit at least once for my Aunt Shirley while she and Uncle George went on vacation, and the experience was nearly trouble-free. Nearly, because we couldn't get Sara to come out from under the upstairs sofa. Many of my aunt's cats had the tendency to hide under furniture for hours at a time without budging. It finally took some sliced turkey to lure her out. A few weeks after the cats had departed, I found a rubber mouse under another sofa.

Steve Martin immediately came to mind: