It was my first dog, got him when I was about 2, already full grown, and so by the time I was 10 or so he was getting fairly long in the tooth. Ever the docile creature, we thought it would be best to get a new puppy to help put some spry back into those old bones. So we get a real bouncy young pup and name it Barney Jr., like on the TV show; BJ.
So naturally, eventually that little rascal escapes and takes off running, out into the suburban jungle of our little cul-de-sac, and my mom has to go out looking for him. He was a good dog, and he had been trained, so she would call out as she drove around in her car: "BJ! Come and get it! Come and get it, BJ!"
Now, she found that dog pretty shortly, and gets back home, but when she does, wouldn't you believe it: There's a line at my front door about as long as the block, and every dad in the neighborhood is patiently waiting.
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