Does yer dug bat?

One of my favorite scenes/lines in any movie from any era comes from “The Pink Panther Strikes Again,” I think about 1976.

Clouseau, checking into a hotel room asks the clerk “Does yer dug bat?” The clerk replies, “No.”

The next few lines are just brilliant.

Sometimes, when I meet someone’s dog for the first time I might ask in my best Clouseau accent, which is really lousy, “Does yer dug bat?”

People usually pull their leash a little closer to them at that point.

Last night we went to see “Let Me In,” which is a remake of the fabulous Swedish film called “Let the Right One In.”

We loved that movie so much that we went to see the American version just to see how different it was.

I think it’s safe to say the Linda and I would highly recommend both but you should see the Swedish one first. It’s on DVD now.

So we’re walking past a restaurant just outside the theater and there is a cute little dog tied to the railing of an outdoor area of the restaurant.

For some reason I’m just drawn to him. Party because it didn’t look like I would be bothering anybody if I just walked up to that dog and greeted him and partly because he was just so adorable.

So I start petting him and he starts snorting and kind of growling in this adorable kind of way. He just seemed to really like me and for that reason and others, I fell madly in love with him.

Pretty soon Linda and I are both petting this sweet little dog and he’s snorting and making little love growl sounds, melting our hearts onto the pavement.

His owner, was on the other side of the rail watching us so I strike up a conversation.

“He’s so amazing,” I said.

“Yeah, he’s something, he said.

“How old is he,” I asked. He seemed to be up on his little dog years and he was pretty barrel shaped like some dogs get when they get older.

“He’s six,” the guy says. “He’s a miniature Australian Shepherd.”

“WHAT????!!!” A miniature Aussie?

Are you shitting me?

An Aussie is probably my favorite dog and they come in toy sizes?

I’ve been kicking myself ever since for not taking a photo of that guy but he was kind of tucked into this dark corner and, well, there wasn’t enough light on him anyway, but he looked pretty much like this. And just little. Not even up to your knee.

So we’re there, petting this little dog, he’s grunting and growling, our hearts are melting, dog owner guy does not seem to mind when suddenly this teen chick comes up and says, something like, “Hey will you take this leash for you dog because” … unintelligible … “I had this leash and” … unintelligible … “could you take it for your dog?”

I could barely believe what I was about to say and I had to try really hard not to use my best, terrible, Clouseau accent when I replied, “That is not my dog.”

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About admin

I'm a photographer, editor, designer, writer and Photoshopper and arguably, a guitar player now living in the Pacific Northwest. My wife is amazing. We have two cats, no kids. The moon is my planet, I love rain, good, strong coffee and a Gibson ES-335.

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