It’s a junkyard dog’s life

HUMOR

I was out for a walk by the dawn’s early light, when I heard the anxious whimpering of a dog. I looked around and saw him seated on a neighbor’s porch rail. After a little ear scratching and a belly rub, he told me his story: “My mom was a Rambler. My dad was a Ranchero. They met one night when dad rear-ended her at a red light in Tijuana. They were both towed to a junkyard. The owner there sold them for parts, and with what was left, he made me. Tail pipe for a tail, turn signal eyes—I was a genuine junkyard dog. One day, I was sleeping in the sun at a souvenir shop, and when I woke up, I was wrapped in old newspapers and in the trunk of a car. That’s how I got to Leisure World. Being here has been the best. It’s a dog’s life!”

—Jim Schneiderman, Mutual 3

Jim Schneiderman