It’s a Doggy-Dog world. (No dog-eat-dog, for me…)

I look at Craigslist for a bargain. When I finally find one, it will more than likely be something that I have absolutely no use for. Something like a slightly used Xylophone, bargain-priced and in pristine condition, or vegetable canning supplies – cheap.

It’s nothing short of amazing, the sorts of things that people offer up for sale. Someone has, for months, listed a little wooden business card holder. Under ten bucks, and maybe it is the Cadillac of business card holders – they have an up-close photograph of it, and it seems to be a really nice business card holder – but folks just aren’t biting. It must be to the point that the owner wakes up on Monday morning, yawning broadly, then realizing it is time to scurry over to the computer and re-up the listing.

“Come down a little on the price?” they might wonder. “Nah. Hold out for top dollar! It’s the Cadillac of business card holders, for Pete’s sake!”

But this afternoon (after I had completed my shop chores) I was astonished at a listing under the barter category, where the owner might – instead of asking for a cash payment – might strike a bargain to swap their unwanted item for your unwanted item.

That way, after a few days, you have a brand-new (to you, anyway) unwanted item. Something to take up that cherished spot in the garage or spare bedroom closet. Something your children will desperately hope you will get rid of before that final estate sale in the sky.

Complete with a photograph, the listing is for a two-year old male German shepherd dog.

How do you come to the place that you are willing to barter away your dog? And what will tempt you enough to strike a bargain? Trading for a slightly used cat is out of the question, no doubt.

Admittedly, I am not a dog person (nor a cat person, fish person, gerbil person, lion person, or sea monkey person!), but I am finding myself thinking compassionately about the young dog (although – in dog years – the age of two might represent an octogenarian). It was my understanding that – in the dog world – a pet is taken in and becomes a member of the family, and is the sort of rare family member that doesn’t require elaborate holiday gifts or shopping trips to the mall.

I’m looking at the doggy-picture that accompanies the Craigslist ad, and I’m thinking that the pup is either terribly naïve and having no clue that a brand-new family is in the works, or that sad-eyed look is purposely intended to discourage prospective phone calls.

Doggie, thinking while the picture is being taken: Please don’t call. Please, Please, Please, Please….PLEASE. (Then, doggie-thoughts “Sad eye look, with the sad German shepherd eyebrows look, and pose!”)

Owner, with camera: Okay Fido! Smile for the camera!

Doggie, eyes even sadder: But I don’t WANT a new family! I promise to quit the late night backyard barking! I’ll quit ignoring the discount kibble!

Honestly.

I wonder about the whole psychological impact of being UnFriended in real life, and sent away with strangers. How does one explain adoption or foster care to a two-year-old. German shepherd, no less.

And – because I just don’t know how these things work, there’s this question: Does the new family acquire naming rights, where the doggy has to learn to answer to a new name from the new family members? What if the dog’s current name is something completely out-of-left-field, like the same as the aunt who’s in prison? (It’s name isn’t mentioned in the ad.)

In my mind, I’m petting the pup, reassuringly – if a little hesitatingly.

Like I said, I’m not a dog person.

Sorta like Ella Minnow Pea, except Completely Different.

I know I’m not the only one it has happened to… I know it for a fact, because there was an English gentleman who was notably guilty of mixing up his words – so much so that his name became the descriptive term. Spoonerism: word and phrase mistakes that sometimes end up with comic consequences.

It happened at the cash register today, and it always makes me think of those occasions when such things went from my mouth into a microphone on live radio.

William Archibald Spooner was an Oxford professor in the late 1800s and early 1900s, known for his absent-mindedness and a proclivity for mixing up his words – with unintended results. It happened often enough that they were repeated by his students, and eventually came to be called spoonerisms.

It was my personal practice to plow on when my mouth made a U-turn during a broadcast. My logic? I figured a percentage of the audience wasn’t paying that much attention to me anyway. Another percentage might assume they had misheard, making it their mistake instead of mine. I also figured my radio miscues had a distinct advantage over my friends who wrote for the newspaper: mine were immediately gone into the ephemeral stratosphere (almost always…), but printed mistakes sat around in legible print until they became wrappers for greasy trash or liners for the birdcage.

However. That particular election night, the hour was drawing late, I was growing tired, and the update segment was short. The deejay working the evening shift left his microphone on, to be ready when I finished my couple-of-minutes-long report.

One of the races was for STATE SCHOOL SUPERINTENDENT. Well. It either comes out right, or it doesn’t, and it didn’t. ‘Superintendent’ came out as SCOOPERintendent, which might not have been too bad if ‘state’ and ‘school’ hadn’t gotten garbled as well.

I was tired enough that I didn’t realize the implication of my error until the deejay started laughing, causing me to pause long enough to realize I was announcing the name of our next STOOL SCOOPERintendent.

It wasn’t quite as embarrassing as the live broadcast from a car dealership: Pat FITTER CHEVROLET. I’ll let you swap the start of those words to figure out my spoonerism on that one – one that caused me to be extra cautious in describing where I was for the rest of that promotion. I should have apologized to him then, but I’ll offer it now, a few decades-late. “Sorry about that, Mr. Fitter…”

My error at the register wasn’t even close to some of the classics, like SMART FELLER, which more than likely was invented for effect, rather than being actually uttered by Professor Spooner in his classroom. In fact, the Oxford dictionary only lists one phrase admitted to by Spooner: “The weight of rages will press hard upon the employer.” (The rate of wages…)

As for “It is kisstomary to cuss the bride,” and other such examples, they are more likely in the same chapter as those Yogi-isms attributed to Yankee baseballer Yogi Berra, who said “You should always go to other people’s funerals, otherwise, they won’t come to yours,” but also admitted “I didn’t really say everything I said.”

And there may be a little truth in all of them, even those Spoonerisms, if you just pay attention. As Yogi said…

You can observe a lot by just watching.

Of All the Gin Joints in All the World…

Or in this case, with apologies to Rick in the movie Casablanca: Of all the bookstores in all the towns in all the world, the book walks into mine…

From the First-Time-For-Everything department: among the used books that came in with inventory-adds was a copy of my own book. As it turns out, it is somewhat of a scarce item, these days.

Nils Thor Granlund: The Swedish Showman Who Invented American Entertainment had a tiny press run ten years ago before the title was acquired by McFarland Publishing, which changed the name, among other things. It is still a biography of NTG, an enterprising showman who was once described as the “highest paid entertainer” in the US. He died virtually penniless, despite having discovered and brought to the bright lights some of the top show business people of his time.

Knowing how few copies of the Inlandia Press version exist, it is almost astonishing to have a pristine copy brought into the shop – almost undoubtedly returning to the place where it was purchased (although ten years ago we were in a different location on Main St.). The McFarland publishing contract required the earlier version be pulled from the market, so it is out-of-print, although the McFarland version is still out there.

It’s a bittersweet reunion. The book is an unread copy, without question, which is a little deflating to the old ego. The flip-side is – it is such a nice copy of such a scarce thing, that I’m happy to have it back without it ever having been cracked open!

I glanced inside to remind myself what year it was published (2008), and it surprised me that it was a decade ago. How time flies, these days.

The kicker?

It’s an autographed copy… which certainly devalues an otherwise perfectly-acceptable book.

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