It was a hot day. One might even say it was among the hottest day of the dog days of summer.
A mangy old stray was thirsty and dry. He noticed a lower level bar and the stairs to its door receded into what looked like a cool refreshing darkness. After a moment he thought, “What the heck!” And, he crossed the street and descended into the shady stair well. He soon felt cooler, but still thirsty, so after another moment he nosed his way in, sauntered up to the bar, hopped onto a stool and barked out, “One beer please.”
The bartender turned around and, surprised, called out to the patrons, “Hey, who brought that mangy stray in here?”
“I beg your pardon,” said the dog, “I let myself in. I’d like a beer.”
“We don’t serve dogs.”
“I’d like a cold beer please. In a bowl would be nice.” Said the dog.
“Hey, didn’t you hear me?”
“What? I’m sorry, I’m a little hard of hearing.” Replied the dog.
“Dogs aren’t allowed in this bar.”
“Not allowed? What, not ever?” The dog asked incredulously. “I’m sure I’ve seen a dog come in here before.”
“Well, maybe a seeing eye dog. But you certainly aren’t.”
“Huh? What’s that? Please speak up, I’m a little hard of hearing.” Said the dog.
“I said, you aren’t allowed because you’re not a seeing eye dog. Now, get out or I’ll call the pound.” Yelled the bartender.
“Okay, okay!” The dog said as he slunk from the bar. But now the dog had an idea.
A few moments later the bartender heard the door open and turned to see the old stray on seven foot tall stilts, his mangy fur brushing against the ceiling.
“I’d like a cold beer, please. In a bowl would be nice.” Said the dog.
“What’s the meaning of this?!” Demanded the bartender.
“What’s that?” Said the dog. “I’m a little hard of hearing and way up here I can’t tell what you’re saying.”
“I told you before; no dogs unless you’re a seeing eye dog.” Yelled the bartender.
“But now I am a ceiling high dog.”
Janie's Place 
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