If I Were Rich

If I were rich, and I mean filthy rich, I’d buy a dog shelter first. Hands down, no questions. It would be a gigantic farm, big enough to house hundreds — no thousands of dogs.

They would be free to roam, drinking out of a huge sculptured toilet out back. I’d call our ranch, “Dog Gone It,” or, “Our Dog is an Awesome Dog.” Anyway, you get the idea.

The second thing I’ll do is gather the county’s unfortunate kids and offer them rooms and food. They can take care of our dogs; groom them, read them Dr. Seuss books. And our children are free to live on the farm until retirement age. At which point we’ll transfer them to the Dog Works in Mysterious Ways nursing home.

You’ll find a school on our property, one with doggie doors. While Miss Roberts teaches the underprivileged multiplication, Otis and Sadie bound into the classroom — tennis balls in mouths.

Miss Roberts will hate me for that.

Our farm holds weekly food-raisers for the hungry. Notice, I didn’t say FUND-raisers. No sir. This isn’t a place rich folks promenade new dresses, or take selfies with celebrities. Or where philanthropists are glorified in magazines, sipping champagne, making conversations that are about as shallow as a pile of spit. To hell with their narcissism.

I won’t have it.

Here at Dog Bless You Farms, we don’t care about impressing you. We care about fun. And movies.

Every Friday is movie night. We show old black and white films, and early Disney movies, like Lady and the Tramp. Admission is free. You can bring a blanket and picnic if you like. Come meet the children who live here — adopt one if you can. If you can’t, then befriend one.

And I hope you like dogs, because we have millions of them, and they love movie night. Almost as much as they like your bucket of fried chicken.

If you happen to enjoy the farm, and you’d like to donate money to our cause; don’t.

Go start your own.