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Newshound dogs the neighborhood

My big mutt, Elvis, knows two tricks.

On command, he wipes his muddy feet on the outside mat before he comes into the house.

And on command, he fetches the newspaper in from our driveway.

This is all I need him to do, other than indicate when he wants to go outside.

But against my best training, once in a while Elvis streaks past the newspaper lying in our driveway and on out into the dark, predawn neighborhood. I know not where he goes. I hope a car doesn't hit him, but he's as big as a Shetland pony, so maybe drivers will see him and stop in time. I don't care enough to run down the street after him in my jammies, flailing a leash and calling, "Elvis! Elvis!"

He comes home when he gets thirsty.

The problem is, in a weird doggy attempt to make up for what he knows deep in his heart is a serious error of judgment and action, when he finally comes home, he brings many newspapers with him. He leaves them in a neat pile at the front door.

So if you're my neighbor, and you're missing your paper today, it's not that the press broke down or the carrier made an error. I have it. I'll make it up to you. I'm sorry. Elvis is sorry. He's not really a thief. He ain't nothin' but a hound dog.


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