To bark, my friend

To bark, my friend

I’m not sure the source on this story:

A scrawny Mexican street dog is swimming north across the Rio Grande. While he paddles, he’s dreaming of what awaits him on the other side and bumps into another dog going the other way. He’s big, plump and shiny with very white teeth.

The Mexican dog asks him, “You a Gringo dog?

The other dog says, “Yes.”

“Oh, lucky you! Is it true that over there you live the life of royalty? That they bathe you, give you pedicures, feed you steak twice a day and they even pick up your poop?”

The Gringo dog says, “Yes.”

“And the people give you a soft bed, get rid of your fleas, take you for walks and treat you like one of the family?

“It’s all true,” said the Gringo dog.

“Well, that’s where I’m headed”, said the Mexican dog, and he struck out more forcefully then ever.

But then he stopped and yelled back over his shoulder, “Then where are you going?”, he asked the Gringo dog.

“To Mexico,” he said.

“But why, if it’s all so good over there, why go to Mexico?”

“To bark, my friend, to bark”.

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