There are times when you wish your pets could talk and tell you exactly what they need. How were we to know that she was about to have another bad case of Tinkerreah? Tinker, after all, is the “Poopingest Pup on the Planet,” so a little more information than pacing back and forth might have been helpful. This was the case the other night. It was three in the morning and Tinker was restless. As I got up to use the bathroom for the umpteenth time that night, she was right on my heels. She’s typically pretty vocal and barks like a maniac when she needs something important. This was important, and she regrettably didn’t do as good of a job as Lassie, the lovable collie, in reporting that “Timmy was in the well.” Well, as it turns out, Timmy was never stuck in a well in any of the episodes, but the point was that the dog could communicate, even if it couldn’t talk. 

I’m retired now, so I’m with our three pets all day long. They are quiet most of the day, except for when my wife comes home from work in the evening. “Don’t you ever pay any attention to them?” she will ask me, as they each vie for her attention. “It’s you that they want. They’re bored with me,” I will remind her. They can hear her car pull into the neighborhood, and anxiously make their way to the door to greet her with barking and jumping. It’s a grand reception that every pet owner craves, and she gets one each and every night, while I’m stuck with bladder-relief responsibilities. When she wants to relax on the couch, Tinker barks incessantly, wanting to play ball with her – not me. Tally wants to be on her lap, and Frankie the cat comes out of the dark bedroom for the first time each day. 

Tinker barks at me when she’s hungry, and she’s hungry all the time, stalking me every time I pass near the kitchen. I can’t open anything without getting “the look,” that angelic face of starvation. Lately, practically every snack I give her comes back to haunt us in the form of Tinkerreah. She just turned fourteen and her once cast-iron digestive system is showing its age. I feel sorry for her because her appetite is still like a puppy. Snoopy, Charlie Brown’s pet beagle,  at least expressed himself through balloons. I wish a balloon had popped up over Tinker’s head saying, “I have to poop, dad!” Before babies can talk, they at least wear a diaper.

There were other famous dogs that could communicate better than even Lassie, like Scooby-Doo, the Great Dane who spoke in broken English but usually put an “R” in front of his words and noises like “Ruh-Roh.” Tinker had that “ruh-roh” moment just before she let loose on our kitchen floor. I tried to get her safely outside, but it was too late! I need a better warning system.

The most vocal dog, in my opinion, is Brian Griffin from Family Guy. He can tell you if he has to poop, or at least Seth MacFarlane can.  This is known as being anthromorphic, like Mr. Ed, who was a horse, of course. Mr. Ed could just poop in his stall, so he didn’t need to use his voice for this purpose. Astro, the Great Dane on The Jetson’s, also had a speech impediment like Scooby-Doo, but could definitely let you know when he had to “roh.” Goofy could talk but Pluto couldn’t because Disney unfairly distinguished between animated characters, making Goofy human-like and Pluto just a pet. The dirty word “Poop” was never used by either of these All-American characters, put Pluto thought about it. The only other talking dog that I can think of was the Taco Bell chihauhau, who only spoke Spanish. “Mierda.”

Tinker, “The Poopingest Pup on the Planet,” is not quite as famous as Benji, The Shaggy Dog, Martin Crane’s Eddie, Old Yeller, Beethoven, Rin-Tin-Tin, Full House’s Comet, The Little Rascal’s Petey, Otis, Toto, Hooch, Cujo, or Marley. Maybe, someday, she will be, as stories of Tinkerreah become legendary. In the meantime, only I give a “poop” that she be able to give me a stronger signal when she needs to go outside.