If Lewis could have managed to pass the MCAT  (get it, M…Cat)  HA!, he would have made an astute Surgeon General.  If I didn’t know better, I’d say he can read.  Consider the following:

I’m not a smoker, but I enjoy the occasional cigar on the porch, with a margarita, and a fire in the fireplace. It’s the ultimate relaxation and stress reliever.  The only thing missing to complete this Rockwellian portrait is for a man to have his dog at his feet.  Complete and content.  To that I say….HA.  In fact, a big fat HAAA!

All I have to do is take the wrapper off of a cigar, and “Mr. Got To Be In the Middle of Things” disappears like a kid at bath time.  I mean, come on, at least wait until I light the thing, and it becomes really disgusting.

Once I light the cigar, however, he begins to exhibit the true nature of a Surgeon General.  He walks in my direction, eyes the smoke floating toward his superhero nose, and changes his path to avoid the bad habit (ok, not a completely good habit). And just like that, my dog understands the dangers of second-hand smoke.  Bada boom.

Lewis is a fickle soul, but he would be twice as confusing as the Surgeon General.  Okay, so he is against smoke, even second-hand smoke.  But what about food?  If allowed, he would become the king of the late-night snack.  Wait a minute, I think he already holds that title.  He actually holds every title related to food.  Don’t ever get between Lewis and his food…literally.

Surgeons General are also responsible for the mental health of the citizenry.  Well, hello, this is a cinch for Lewis.  When he wakes up in the morning, he stretches his nearly six-foot frame out on the kitchen floor waiting for someone to pet him.  He then waits for his daily brush out.  And should you bend down to stroke that thick white coat, you discover it has a very calming effect.  Good for your mental health, yes?  Surgeon General material.  We won’t talk about if you leave before he’s finished with you, he will stick out his front leg to trip you.

Conversely, but still in the realm of mental health, this dog will drive you crazier than an outhouse rat (whatever that is…I just like the sound of it).  Exhibit A: after aforementioned brush out, said white largus beastus runs out the door and runs in and out of all the bushes, picking up every loose leaf and twig.  He returns looking like he took a shower in front of a woodchipper!

I will say this for the old boy (OK, he’s only three years old), the rank fits him.  He is every bit the general officer.  He’s definitely a leader, an alpha dog. He is the Omar Bradley, the George Patton, the Norman Schwarzkopf of the dog world.

He might not be a surgeon, but he is every bit the general – leading away from the smoke and charging relentlessly and bravely toward the front….

…of the line where the food is.