My Dog Drinks My Whiskey

My dog drinks my whiskey, I know how this sounds. It is not what I expected but he’s left no room for doubt. This fluffy white dog whom I call my best friend, drinks my whiskey when I’m gone, and I don’t think it will end. My suspicions first began on a sultry summer day, I poured myself a glass and when I returned, he was sitting on my recliner looking at me rather expectantly. I was not sure what he wanted so I moved him to the side, got comfy in my chair and began sipping my whiskey over ice. He began to push my arm with the edge of his nose, while staring at my drink as though I’d left him indisposed. I asked him if he’d like some and he jumped up and down, spun a couple circles and then sat right down. I told him it was bad for him, but he did not take my advice. He just kept on asking, so I gave him a single piece of ice. He seemed rather disappointed, but promptly chomped it down and when I came home the next day, I found a bottle of Bulleit on the ground next to three bottles of Pop’s and his eyes were spinning around.

I knew it was impossible, but I had to see this through, so I set up hidden cameras just as any good dog parent would do. Now I’ve been known to smoke cigars when I have a glass, little did I know my dog thought this was very high class. As I watched him on the hidden cameras, he pulled a chair up to my pantry, got up on his hind legs and grabbed a bottle of Glenlivet. He oh so carefully brought it down, then filled a glass with ice and poured my whiskey over flawlessly, much to my surprise. He set it on the end table that I keep by my chair, then went over to the coffee table and grabbed a cigar there. He unwrapped it very gently then sat in the recliner. He leaned it so far back that even I was concerned he might not last. He stuck the cigar in his mouth, turned on the television, and began to sip the whiskey in the most gentlemanly fashion. The cigar remained unlit, and the whiskey went down smooth. Before I knew it he was three glasses in, which I must admit, I found to be quite rude. I told my boss there was a problem and I’d have to run straight home. He was amazed at what I showed him and said to get home soon. I ran quickly through the doorway and straight to my living room. There I saw with my own eyes my dog, whiskey in hand. I asked what he was doing, less of a question than a demand.

He looked rather shocked to see me, though he must have heard me come in. Perhaps he was too drunk, for when he stood up, he started to spin. I quickly helped him out so he would not fall to the ground, I took away his whiskey and brought him water, which I hoped he would keep down. My poor dog looked quite stricken that he had been found out. I let him know he had a problem, but that I’d gladly help him out. I took him to the vet who did not believe my story, but once he saw the video, he knew just what could be done for me. He told me not to worry for the life of my dear whiskey, but he said I’d need a raise, perhaps a whole three fifty. He wrote out his prescription and left the room with a wink. I read it rather quickly and did not know what to think.

So now my dog and I, well, we drink together. One glass each per day, no matter what the weather. He’s not an alcoholic not the vet says he’ll be okay. He never smokes cigars, just holds them in his mouth. They seem to make him happy though my wallet’s quite put out. My friends now know this story and they find it rather strange, though many of them wish their dogs would do the same. My dog is my best friend and forever we will be, drinking whiskey with cigars, while we vaguely watch T.V.