Nora: That Bimstein piece really knocked you out, didn't it, Boris?
Boris: Oh, yeah. I danced so hard I almost had a heart attack! You know,
I hear music all the time with you--at home, in the car--everywhere. You're playing the oboe all day, and all those oboe players are always here. I like all of that,
but all the animal noises in the Bimstein piece were so incredibly well done. He's had to re-do the piece for lots of instruments other than the oboe because other
musicians like it so much. Wow, what perfect music for an energetic dog. But, maybe you shouldn't play it in the car--I know you get upset when I tear up the back seat
when I get a little crazy.
N: Yeah, probably a good idea. So have you ever thought about
reincarnation, Boris?
B: Not really. I just go from chipmunk to chipmunk, if you know what I
mean. Kind of day to day, moment to moment. It's like that.
N: Uh-huh.
B: But, you know, what if this His Holiness is right? After all, he
probably had a wonderful education, and I'm only a dog of dubious ancestry who couldn't make it through dog school. Besides, what do I have to lose listening to a short
tape that might help me come back as the CEO of Pet Smart? I wouldn't mind having a few stock options on my favorite dog cookies.
N: Sounds very nice. Now Boris, we never talked about this, but what are
you going to do with the money you are going to make at Boris' Corner? Until now, you haven't had an income.
B: Well, here's how I see it. I already have everything. I am loved 24
hours every day. I've got plenty of food, I'm warm in the winter, I've got the back seat of your car, and those nice UPS and Fed Ex guys come to visit me every day. I
am completely pampered; I'm living the life of Riley! So if I make any money I would like to give it away. Besides, I hit the Lottery the day we found each other.
N: God, Boris, I can't believe you said that. You never say stuff like
that. But, as I always say, flattery will get you everywhere!
B: If I make any money, I would like to give it to all the people and
animals who haven't been as fortunate as I have.
N: Commendable, my boy. I'll take care of it for you. Run along now. . .
oh, my, is that Sasha the Cat running up the stairs? (whoosh. . . Boris is gone in a flash. . .)
