Every Dog Has
His Day In The Sun
My Biography
By Mr. Boris Post, Esq.

Everyone says I write really well for a dog, so I am finally capitulating and writing my biography, feeling somewhat guilty that it took me this long after the many requests I have received. Well, here goes:

No one knows where or when I was born. I would have been an upstanding mix of a Doberman and a Rotweiler, but somehow a beagle got in there and voila, that's me! I look like a Doberman who never grew up, and the unsuspecting world always calls me "puppy", even though I am middle-aged by doggie standards. I was found at the vet's office in Spring Valley, New York, where mom had gone to pick up some medicine for her cat's ear infection. Someone had abandoned me there late one night, and that incredibly kind vet had taken me in and nursed me back to health at his own expense. Then Nora showed up, and decided to take me home on approval, just like an oboe. The main issue was the cats, I think. I passed the approval period (whew!), but when she took me and her credit card through all those glorious isles at Pet Smart, I knew I was in. Dumb I'm not.

I let the cats know right away who the boss was. Then mom took me to obedience school. Well, I don't like huge dogs because when I was a wee thing, a large dog beat me up mercilessly. That's all that wonderful vet knew about me; there was a small army of Great Danes and such at dog school. I didn't like those big dogs at all. Despite my high IQ (for a dog), I flunked out of dog school. At lesson #2, I walked to the middle of the floor, lifted my leg and peed all over the floor. That was it with dog school. I had voted with my little weenie.

I developed my skills as a dancer with Fred, mom's former UPS man. We used to have male bonding sessions every day when Fred came to pick up and deliver oboes. I did my Whirling Dervish Dance with Fred, where I jumped up in the air and twirled around on command. We danced together and had a fabulous time. Fred was the best ever, and because of my Whirling Dervish Act, I was recently asked to dance in a doggie ballet. I like the idea, but I'm a little nervous that I might have to shave my legs.

The only romantic liaison I ever had was when I was about two years old. Boomer, the bishon of the principal oboist of the Oregon Symphony, wrote me a card. I hardly ever get any mail, so I was very excited to hear that Boomer wanted to do lunch with me, "you big stud muffin," as he put it. Never mind that we are both boys--that was the best day of my life! A trans-continental fling--how glamorous!

I had a formal birthday party when I was four, and it was so exciting that I had to take a nap in the middle of it. Being the center of everyone's attention can be so exhausting. But it was worth it. If you could have seen all the presents I got! Shopping bag after shopping bag full of dog goodies.

These days I chase lots of chipmunks, squirrels, deer, rabbits, wild turkeys and whatever else comes my way in New Paltz. I'm fearless. I like the chipmunks the best. We have hundreds of them and whoa, those babies can move!

Several years ago I picked out a nice Audi four-wheel drive for mom to get around in the snowy winters up here in the Catskill Mountains. I test-sat the back seat before she bought the car, and the car passed the Boris Test. So, I'm quite the Dog About Town (the backseat is entirely mine and has blankets just for me), as we cruise into the drive-in window of the Bank of New York. They always give me a dog treat, so that's my #1 pick in town. (Hey, when did Mac Donald's give your dog even one free French fry?)

I started thinking about starting my own on-line business, because I was getting email telling me what good taste I had in the arts. I was encouraged to share my experiences with other dogs and cats--plus their owners. Thus "Boris' Corner" was born.