Barking and arthritis -- mutually misunderstood

Answering the phone has never been my favorite chore. Though I don't actually mind answering it, it is humans' inability to comprehend Bark that irks me. I mean, dogs have been around since the 4th century BC and still humans haven't taken the time to learn even the simplest dialects of Bark. If a Dalmatian can pick it up, I'm sure that people could make the effort. (Sorry to all my Dalmatian friends -- all one of you. But you have to admit that re-learning fetch every 10 months is not an intelligence benchmark.)

While we're not asking humans to learn the 300 tone barks of a boarder collie, it would be nice if you could learn the equivalent of "Menu Bark." That way, you would be able to carry on a passable conversation.

Sure, when one of us calls 911 and reports a fire, then drags everyone out of the house (Who is it that sleeps through a fire? Humans, of course), we get our half hour on "20/20." At least that's a half-hour John Stossel is not on the air.

But the story is human-centric, not dog-centric -- so you all miss the point. The world takes pleasure in believing we aren't really as smart as humans. And though I admit we haven't yet invented a fat substitute for potato chips that doesn't cause anal leakage, we are pretty smart nonetheless.

Now, I love watching the segment where Barbara Walters gushes that, "the pooch [Yea. Whatever.] was able to get the receiver off and push enough buttons to get the attention of an operator."

Hold on, Barbara. First of all: no one can get the attention of an operator. If you don't know what number to dial, the telephone is a plastic paperweight. And second: we know how to use a phone. But can you pee in the street without hitting your feet? No.

Alas, I am getting diverted by Barbara and John and the rest of the TV intelligencia. My point is that humans have not taken the time to understand dogs. Let me give you an example:

On Saturday, my arthritis was killing me. I found a cool spot in the basement for a few hours, then a hot spot in the kitchen, and both felt good. I was on my way back to the basement when my ribs ran into someone's foot (to put it in human-centric terms). I barked out a string of expletives, which, of course, he didn't understand, and then tried to explain that because I have arthritis, the usual kick in the side tends to hurt just that much more. I also asked him if he could perhaps make my life a little easier by providing me with a softer pillow to lie on in the basement and a warmer spot in the kitchen. My pleas fell on deaf ears. So then I asked if he could possibly make some improvements in my dog house so that it was a little more arthritis friendly, and maybe hold the door open just a second longer when I go out so it doesn't give me that unfreindly shove in the butt. Again, deaf ears were what I got in return for well-constructed sentences and logical requests.

I gave up.

You see, that's the problem with being a dog. Nobody understands the pain we go through, and when we ask for the simplest help from people, we get attention, but often no results. Or worse, we get bureaucracy.

I'm glad humans with arthritis don't have to go through this. I see politicians on TV say everyone is treated equally, no child is left behind, and the US healthcare system is the best in the world.

Because if I knew that insurance companies deny two NSAIDS a day, even when a doctor prescribes them, or think a hip replacement is an outpatient procedure, I'd bite them, or a senator or two. I would hate to think that humans with arthritis are treated like dogs. How could that be? They're so much smarter than we are.