From what I’ve been led to understand, no previous canine member of this household ever received his or her official papers before. These mutts may have called themselves cocker spaniels or wirehaired dachshunds–but could they prove it? Not without their papers, they couldn’t.
Well, I’m no Professor Harold Hill (in The Music Man, the River City councilmen constantly demand his credentials, and he keeps them at bay). No siree. I’ve got real credentials now. Next time I’m pulled over for barking on a cellphone while driving (or maybe just for sticking my nose out of the window of a moving car), I’m going to flash my papers and say those magic letters: A-K-C. Cops won’t mess with a purebred.