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                                                                    Hogspore News
                                                          By Clet Litter from the Ozarks
                                                      Trubletoof’s better than a hound

   I was talking with Morton Trubletoof’s wife, Portia, at the Come-On-Give-Us-One-More-
Chance Diner. A few customers had their dogs tied up in the shade outside with bowls of
water. I mentioned to Portia, “Why don’t you guys have a dog?”

   She furnished the long version, “Well, my husband doesn’t need help with his tracking and
hunting guides because he already has the talents of a hound. Morton can show the hunters
where the game is. He can tell what the animals are thinking, and which still-wet-behind-the-
antlers buck is trying to impress a debutante doe. Morton can’t talk to the critters, but he
understands them when they speak to him.”

   I shoulda ordered breakfast before she started but I’m always ready to hear about shooting.
She said, “I know a pooch will give unconditional love and it’s a member of the family. I fancy
dogs, even the ones that aren’t quick to take on new tricks. They’re loyal and when you get
home, they’re happier to see you than a process server.

   A mutt barks if someone tries to break in. The reason there’s no pup in our house is because
… I have a Morton, even though he hasn’t learned to bark yet. Besides, his doctor
bills are cheaper than a vet bill.”

   By now, my stomach was starting to complain out loud, but Portia kept going, “When we
were first married, he was still untamed. I told him to stop scratching at the door or I would
have him fixed. That calmed him somewhat.

   When hunting season is over, groups of wild life photographers or bird watchers pay
him real well to get those hard-to-find photos. He can even call in butterflies, but he stopped.
The shutterbugs thought he was showing off.

   Morton is all we need. He’s a fine provider. He’s a good boy, oh yes he is.” I left at that
point cause Portia was rubbing me behind my ears and my left foot was thumping the floor.  

   Thursday the 24th was National Bologna Day and folks here celerbrated. The rules are
simple: Make a bologna sandwich to eat. It exceeds your expectations cause of its humble
beginnings. Even dog food companies won’t put bologna in their cans. The meat that ain’t fit
for bologna goes directly to the subsidized Federal School Lunchroom programs. God Bless the
Federal guvernment and bologna, but not in that order.

   Here’s a crossword puzzle clue that I come across, or was it down? What’s a four-letter word
for the fabled tortoise’s rival? The answer was semi.

   Mumford Pickens says, “Masochists are great blackjack players cause they always say,
‘Hit me.”’

   I put Bologna in this report five times, six if you count this sentence. You could say that it’s
full of bologna. Correction: seven times.

   You can contact Clet Litter at


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   Largo, Florida
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