Cameron the Weimaraner is perplexed by the “hooman” behavior displayed at bar crawls, but he still holds the title as Life of the Party.

On a normal day, when the sun sinks, I quickly hop on the couch and spread out to relax. Mike sometimes has to sit in the floor. Hey, I was here first!

A few summers back I discovered there is something hoomans do when the sun sinks (besides couching)—it’s bar hopping. I went along for a week as Mike entered bars, and since those bars were in Montana, a state where dogs rule, I went inside also. This is the point where I must say stop, I don’t want to hear jokes about persons or things that went into bars and said something ridiculous. Those jokes are mostly old and untrue.

Anyway, the first thing I discovered in a bar was everyone wanted to buy me a beer. Unfortunately in rural Montana, it seems no bars carry dark German beer—my favorite.

Next, everyone in those bars wanted to pet me and know my name. Yikes, have they never seen a dog in a bar before? I’m here to relax and make friends. Yes, I did find folks in bars to be friendly and they were all glad to see me, except one guy that I growled at. This almost got Mike and me tossed out since it seems bar fights are only allowed on TV.

I did, however, discover that the more trips hoomans made up to the actual bar, and the more beer and alcohol they consumed, the more likely they were to drool and get down on all fours. Not sure why they were trying to be so dog-like.

During the conference that Mike was attending, I did hear everyone asking if I was coming to the bar that night. If only the bar would have served the beer I like, things would have been much different. I could have drank beer, and started loudly howling as someone played the piano. Guess those many drunk hoomans would have wanted to howl along.

I can’t wait to go bar hopping again. Now, drunk hoomans everywhere—stop drooling!

– Cameron

 

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