Yogi may be a hybrid of dog breeds who is named after a bear, but I believe he is part goat.  He reminds me of a little kid that puts everything in his mouth.  It’s as if he has some weird paper deficiency that makes him eat every napkin, paper towel, and kleenex in sight.  He snatches the flowers Mom is trying to plant and eats the roots, rendering them useless.

Of course he makes a grab for food.  I don’t think he’s even that hungry; he does it just to show off.  For this reason he has earned the nickname Sneaky Pete.  His penchant for people food is aided and abetted by Dad giving him treats.  Yogi goes for a ride with Dad; they end up at the ice cream place in Knightstown where Yogi is given a generous pup cup of vanilla.

You can tell when he’s going in for the kill on your sandwich resting innocently on the counter.  His weight shifts to his hindquarters and his head points upward.  He’s about to pull a Fast Eddie.  I’ve suggested leaving a hot pepper perched precariously on the edge in order to teach him a lesson but Mom says that’s too mean.

Yogi even likes to purloin non-edibles.  Once my sister was dog sitting while my parents were away and he managed to get a hold of her underwear.  He escaped outside so my sister was chasing him around the yard at night trying to get her undergarment back.  She said she never expected a panty raid from the dog.

With as much as he steals I guess Yogi could be defined as a canine juvenile delinquent.  I’m surprised the other dogs in the neighborhood aren’t forbidden to play with him as he’s probably considered a bad influence.  Once he stole a pig ear at the Farmer’s Market.  Mom had to go back later and pay for it and was so embarrassed that she added on a little bit extra as a tip.

He gets fed enough; in addition to kibbles with chicken broth he regularly gets green beans.  And sweet potatoes.  But those tend to have unfortunate effects:  flatulence.  I recently discovered a series of children’s picture books titled Walter the Farting Dog that I checked out for my parents.  They were not amused.  (Maybe it hit too close to home?)

With all the food Yogi eats then you have to deal with what comes out the other end.  Yogi has a thing for eating plastic bags.  I thought maybe this was a positive development as his droppings might come out already bagged up.  The ritual after dinner is for one of my parents to go out in the yard to look for dog piles.  I call it the Post Prandial Poop Patrol. 

As you might imagine, picking this stuff up is not my favorite thing.  I have a particular aversion to carrying around a full bag.  Once when we were out for a walk I tied the bag onto Yogi’s harness.  My parents were impressed at me for coming up with this.  I thought it was the obvious solution as my attitude toward the dog was something like “Dude, carry your own poop.”

The best laughs come when Dad narrates the dog’s thoughts:  “You people are so dumb.  If you don’t want me eating your food, why do you keep leaving it where I can reach it?  You still think you’re the ones in charge?”  I’ve thought of making a series of YouTube videos along this theme.  Maybe Yogi deserves his own Facebook page and website.