Dante Goes to the Circus

On a small farm along a creek in the middle of the country there lived a little puppy by the name of Dante. He was born and raised to be a champion show dog just like his father and his father’s father and every other dog in his family for the past hundred years. He had been trained since birth to be an obedient, brave, and poised young dog so he could be a grand champion just like his ancestors. This was a wonderful idea, and could even be considered a great honor, but Dante felt the world had something more in store for him than his family’s tradition.

Early one morning Dante was walking down a path along the creek, enjoying the sunny spring weather, when a caravan of strange-looking dogs dressed in colorful scarves and flowers came trotting by. “Aye mate. A beaut of a day, wouldn’t ya say?” a very scruffy looking dog in the front of the group asked as Dante approached him.

“Oh yes sir, is it quite lovely. May I be so bold as to ask you a question?” Dante replied bashfully. The scruffy dog grinned with amusement, “Sure, pup, take your best shot.”

“Well, I hope this isn’t rude, but why is your speech so peculiar and your clothes so wild and colorful?”

“Hah hah hah, my boy,” the scruffy dog howled with laughter. He turned to his friends who had stopped a little ahead of them and said, “Would you get a load of this kid? I’ve never seen such a proper pup. Kinda scary if ya think about it.” A large pit bull with a cigar hanging out of his mouth cracked a smile, saying, “Nah mate, never seen one like that. Must be one of them show dogs from the looks of ’im.”

“You are about as straight-laced as anyone could get, sonny.” The scruffy dog gave Dante a strange look and asked, “By the way, what kind of dog are you, exactly? I mean, ya look like a greyhound, but you’re a bit small.”

“Yes, I know I’m fairly small, but I am a greyhound—just not an ordinary one. We are called Italian greyhounds, and we were bred to be companions of royalty,” Dante replied in a matter-of-fact manner.

The scruffy dog whistled as he shot a grin over to the pit bull. The pit bull snickered a bit. “How ’bout we start off with introductions first?” the scruffy dog asked. “My name is Hubert, and I’m from Australia. My friend over there with the cigar in his mouth is Brutis; the beautiful powder puff next to him is Daphne; and that group of ruffians over there are the Fantastic Flying Chihuahuas, otherwise known as Pepe, Julio, Carlos, Sanchez, and Romeo. As for our clothes, I guess you could say living a life in the circus spotlight makes a bloke dress a little strange.”