ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ °°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°MY TOILET, MY KINGDOM°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°Bill Luby ßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßßß The other day, I walked into the bathroom and saw my dog staring at the toilet. Rilke's concentration was so intense that he didn't even acknowledge me as I entered the room. When I looked at his face, it almost devoid of expression; and although there was a touch of curiosity and perhaps a hint of bafflement in his gaze, there were no other clues as to what he might be thinking. I have seen evidence of some analytical ability in my dog and enough familiarity with the English language that I probably give him credit for a much more complicated thought process than he is capable of. Still, I have never seen him study anything so intently as he had the toilet, so I thought I would amuse myself by trying to figure out what he was thinking. After contemplating the various activities associated with the toilet and how they may interest my dog, it didn't take very long before I hit on the obvious answer. Rilke is an animal who marks his territory by going to the bathroom in strategic boundary locations. Surely he assumes that humans must operate in the same manner and has therefore has concluded that the only place I think worthy of staking a claim to is the toilet. Of course he figures that everything I do in and around the toilet must have some special significance, none of which is immediately apparent to him. I can just hear the thought ricocheting around in his head: "He can have the stupid porcelain bowl for all I care, as long as I get to keep the back yard." -end- Copyright (c)1994 Bill Luby