Goofy is a good dog. He used to be kind of a bad dog. He once ate the legs off an entire antique, quarter-sawn oak table and chairs. We ended up giving them away. He also ate sheet rock. What you might call, a wall.
Goofy is a sort of idiot savant. Mostly, he's an idiot. As a matter of fact he's about 90% idiot. The savant part applies only to the obtaining of food. Goofy has eaten every form of food product known to man or dog-kind and from every possible location. Turkey off the kitchen counter? Check. Cheez-its from the covered trash? No sweat. Cookies crushed beneath a Wile E. Coyote anvil? Oh, he can do that.
Part of Goofy's genius is that he recognizes food sources where most animals don't. Is dog shit food? Absolutely. Rabbit shit? Clearly. In Tuscany he ate olives straight off the tree. Under some circumstances mulch is food. Dead things? Sure. Also gravel.
In the last year Goofy has survived being shipped from North Carolina to Germany, then a car ride to Italy, then a plane ride to New York, a night in a posh Manhattan kennel, a flight to California, and two weeks in another kennel. (They had a pool! Seriously. Dude: it's L.A.) And then he encountered the carpet in our new abode here in neutron-bombed Irvine. He tore a ligament and had to have surgery.
$3,000 worth of surgery. Followed by 8 weeks of lying around, (hence the cage) being plied with food. Which I worry will erode his food-scrounging skills.
Now Goofy has a big purple bandage on one leg, a morphine patch on the other, and a cone on his head. Also his ass has been shaved. We don't quite know why, and he sure as hell doesn't know why.
Goofy would like you all to know that he is fine, although somewhat mystefied by his current predicament.