Since this is National Dog Week (Sept. 19-25), I thought it would be nice to take a break from the pressing issues of the day and “feel the pulse of the canine,” so to speak.

Luckily, I happen to know a dog who speaks fairly good English, so I set out for an interview.

To my surpise I found the mutt on campus picking at a garbage can.

By the way, my canine friend wishes to remain anonymous due to fears of being nabbed for a circus’ talking dog attraction or worse yet a stint on the trash talk show circuit.

“Hey, dog, what are you doin’ on campus? Isn’t it illegal for you to be here?” I asked.

“Come on, Chebuhar, think about it,” he answered, “with DPS so busy with parking tickets they don’t have time for me. Look, I’ve read some of your pitiful news articles and drivelous columns. I’ve heard you speak at protests.

“Why didn’t you go to school to be an accountant? The pay is surely better and you probably wouldn’t bother half as many people.”

“It’s mutts like you that keep the number of veterinarians down,” I retorted. “I’ll tell you what. I know your bark is worse than your bite. Just take it easy and tell me all about the good life that dogs like you live.”

“Are you kidding?” he shot back, “we’re the second lowliest animals in Iowa next to hogs, and that’s only when the price of hogs is low – when prices are up, it’s back to the bottom.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “But what about the easy life-free food, a place to sleep, no work, and no fear of the glue factory or the slaughter house?” I inquired.

“Man, Chebuhar, for a journalist you’re way out of touch. This Ivory Tower cocoon you live in is warping your perception of reality,” he answered. “Let me make this cut and bone dry. Everything a dog’s master worries about affects us.

“Take for instance the economy. I know it’s supposedly doing well — and it is — for 20 percent of America. Corporate profits are up and stock markets are setting all kinds of records.

“But 80 percent of the workers have suffered declining standards of living in terms of wages for the last 20 years.

“Jobs may be being created, Cheb. But the majority of these jobs are at poverty level wages.

“I mean, do you think I’d have to pick in this garbage can for food if things weren’t so bad? Dogs always get the same or worse treatment as humans. War?

“I had some old Doberman Pincher and German Shepherd friends who fought in WWII and some of them are still in the military.

“Taxes? I know a couple of sheep dogs who were thrown out of work when they raised the regressive tax on the wool market.

“Regulations? A dog can’t even wander out of a master’s yard without somebody calling the cops. Besides, all we dogs are supposed to be licensed and chained just to walk down the street.”

At this time he really started growling. “No work, you say. I have retriever friends who have to tear across grasses wet and cold with dew in early morning hours just to haul back dead birds to their hunting owners.

“Or how about my Greyhound friends who race around tracks like idiots while you humans bet on them?

“Pets like me have it tough, too. Have you ever tried to stay sweet and pretty all day long?”

“Well, you know I…” I started to say, but the mongrel interrupted.

“You see Dalmatians in the fire stations, bloodhounds in prisons, dogs on television, even a dog made it in space before a monkey or his brother, Cheb. And experiments.

“Dogs always get used for experiments. They even taught dogs to smoke for some cancer research. ‘Man’s best friend,'” he sarcastically mocked. “It oughta be ‘man’s best guinea pig is a dog.'”

I frantically tried to keep my notes up with these revealing comments. “Say listen,” I suggested, “don’t you have anything good to say about National Dog Week? I mean, come on, it is your week, you know?”

“Growl, growl, well I think it’s time that we canines used this week to organize and throw off our chains,” he said. “We’ve got the numbers, Cheb.

“We should have a mass meeting and demonstrate — maybe bury our dog tags in protest. We need to lobby for some changes. I’d like to see a fire hydrant on every corner of every block, freedom to chase cars, more trees, and how about a dog center where we could meet? You know, a place where every dog could have his day.

“Maybe I’m barking up the wrong tree, though. What would you know about a dog’s life?”

He had me there. Just then a mailman stopped at the box down the street and my bow wow friend was off with the speed of a bullet.

Personally, I think my dog friend is more bark than bite.

As a matter of fact, the nicest thing he’s ever told me was his master used the Daily to housebreak him.

But…is that nice?

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Drew Chebuhar is a senior in journalism and mass communication from Muscatine.