That’s the only way to make sense of what’s going on in the world today.

I’m not going to get into my personal beliefs on how to cure the world’s ills, just know that I have a plan, and that plan would save the world from itself.

Why not share it? Well, I’m too tired to spread the word.

So, for now, I’ll sit back and watch the world continue down its ruinous path. I can only hope that a few rays of sunshine turn into a sunny day and all will be well with the world again.

One such ray shone through the clouds this morning as I scoured the internet for signs of hope.  It’s the story of Marko the Donkey and his political aspirations.

A donkey has been submitted as a candidate for the upcoming elections for a new mayor of Bulgarian town Varna.

Marko the donkey has been chosen by the Society for New Bulgaria political party to represent them for the elections on October 23.

It was reported that the party see Marko as the ideal alternative to the current mayor Kiril Yordanov, who they feel is not doing a good enough job for the town.

Angel Dyankov, head of the campaign headquarters of the Society for New Bulgaria party, said: ‘Unlike the other mayor candidates and politicians, the Donkey has a strong character, doesn’t steal, doesn’t lie, and gets work done.’

Fellow Society for New Bulgaria member Doychin Dimitrovmade made his point clear about his dissatisfaction with the current mayor of Varna.

‘Marko’s life is difficult because the green areas in the Bulgarian sea capital are disappearing.

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I don’t partake in any of it. Heck, I won’t even consider the gateway activity to getting there. You know, smoking.

Sure I get peer pressure to take a toke on a Virginia Slim or a Marlboro Light, but no matter how much Ruger the boxer insists, I just won’t inhale.

The reason is simple. If I’m  going to inhale something that isn’t healthy, it’s going to be a Whopper from BK, or dare I say it, a Big Mac from McDees. Yeah life expectancy is cut short by six months for each one you eat, but at least your enjoying the taste.

I say, if you like smoke then just dress up like a Dalmatian and work for the local fire department. Not only will you have plenty of smoke to smell, but you get free truck rides. Wheee!

Anyway, my advice is to no avail for one slimy character. The Metro has the story of Po, a snake slithering down the wrong trail.

You don’t want to deny Po the pit viper his regular morning cigarette – he’s guaranteed to throw a hissy fit.

Po cigarette snake Puff adder: Po the viper has a cigarette. Bet he has trouble lighting them…

That’s because the three-year-old reptile from Taipei in Taiwan has become hooked on nicotine, thanks to his owner Sho Lau’s 20-a-day habit.

‘He is very tame and one day when I threw a cigarette butt away he went for it and seemed to enjoy having it in his mouth,’ said 33-year-old Lau.

‘One thing led to another and before long he was having one cigarette in the morning and another at night.’

‘He gets very agitated if I don’t have any to spare,’ he added.

Sho Lau failed to mention that Po’s hisses now sound like Lurch from the Adams Family.

Here’s what it looks like when Po sheds his skin.

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Many a working dog just can’t find a job these days. Fortunately for me, I’m retired, but of the four other dogs in our house, only one has a job.

Copper is over sixty, so I can see where she’s not employable. She gets a pass. Put her in the category of “stopped looking for a job” and take her out of the official statistics like the government does.

Kensy is educated out the wazoo. He holds a Good Canine Citizen Degree, as well as advanced coursework  in Humiliating Tricks Humans Force Dogs To Perform. In addition to that, he holds a degree in Pet Therapy.

With all that education, he’s still living at home, jobless. Granted he does work, but he does it for free at the local retirement home.

Patience is a product of her environment. Having been in a backyard breeder program of the first five years of her life, she’s used to pumping out pups, not being a productive member of society. With that background, she’s focused on pet therapy too. But her version is the one where she’s laying on the couch, barking about her past.

Finally, we have Goliath. He has a job. He carries water in has back pack on our daily walks with the old man. He’s proud to be contributing member of the family, and struts about accordingly. Unfortunately, everything he makes is spent on repairing the holes he puts in the drywall at the bottom of the staircase.

No doubt things will turn around soon, but only if we stick together. The first step is to stop scabs from taking our jobs, like the two parrots in our story today.

A pair of parrots are putting the fear of dog into would-be thieves after learning to imitate barking.

Green-winged macaws Elvis and Cilla have been on duty at a security company for the past year.

Owner Trevor Bate, 44, said: ‘They picked it up when we lived in Spain, where our neighbour had a Scottie dog called Bailey and it would bark all the time.

‘His owner would come out and shout at him. Once we returned to the UK, we thought this would be an ideal way of saving money on a guard dog.’

But Elvis, six, and three-year-old Cilla aren’t always angry birds – they can be quite affectionate, squawking ‘give us a kiss’, ‘hello’ and ‘fabulous’ whenever they get a treat.

‘Elvis and Cilla might sound mean at times but they are really friendly birds,’ said Mr Bate’s wife, Louise, 42. ‘They’re part of the family, so I thought it was fair to include them in the family business.’

The birds stand watch outside MP Guarding security company, in Telford, Shropshire, and Mrs Bate hopes they will breed – despite Elvis’s lack of interest at the moment.

‘They usually start breeding aged about four, so Cilla has plenty of time yet. We are keeping our fingers crossed,’ she added.

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I like sleep, especially in the morning. I mean, what’s the point of seeing a sunrise, even if it gets me that coveted squirrel? During the chase, I’d be pining for sleep. Once I catch the rodent (yes they are rodents!) I’d think about how tired I am and let it go. Nothing’s been accomplished except that I’d be more tired than when I started the day.  And that my friends, would cut into my begging time.

So I sleep in instead.

I’m not the only one. My feline sisters Moose and Mothball exhibit the same behavior, as do Copper and Kensy. Goliath? Not so much.

So this next story is for him, to show him the dangers of not getting enough sleep.

The Telegraph has the story.

The veterinarian was called out on Saturday night to free a horse which had become tangled in a fence on a farm in Crediton, Devon.

However, when she sedated the animal it fell asleep on top of her and she had to be rescued by firefighters.

The vet was uninjured by the bizarre incident and the horse is now recovering after being cut free from the fence.

Jim Laker, the station manager who co-ordinated the rescue for Devon and Somerset Fire Rescue Service, explained how the incident unfolded.

He said: “One of the vets got herself caught between the horse and the ditch, but she’s fine and we got her out.

“They [the two vets] were concerned about whether the horse had sustained some neck injuries, and if it had some fluid on the lungs.

“The vets were not sure of the state of the young mare, but we managed to achieve the rescue with the horse, but whether it’s initial injuries were severe they couldn’t tell in the dark.”

I choose not to deliberately poison my body, so I just say NO! to alcohol and street drugs.

Of course it helps that I never liked beer, even though my old man does. I remember many moons ago he put some in a bowl and had me give it a go.

After one slurp I knew the stuff wasn’t for me. It was bubbly and bitter. Kind of like Hugh Heffner’s ex-wife after finding out their prenup was enforceable.

As for drugs, I like the ones that make me feel better rather than the ones that give me a hankerin’ for a Domino’s Pizza. For me, that means prescribed meds only, ergo the distinction of street drugs.

All you need to know is I take my body and health seriously, and so should you. Especially if you’re the Moose in this story.

A drunk Swedish moose had to be cut free from an apple tree after an intoxicating evening foraging for fruit.

The silly moose suffered the fate of many an intoxicated human after a night of heavy drinking – and found himself in a very embarrassing predicament.

Police believe the inebriated elk got into a state after eating fermented apples, and got stuck while trying to reach fruit higher up the tree.

The binge-drinking beast somehow managed to wedge itself into the branches of the tree with all four legs off the ground.

Fire crews had to chop down the tree to help free the animal from the branches.

Once free, the drunken deer staggered off into nearby woods, presumably  to sleep off the effects of his big night out.

The moose was left physically unharmed by the incident but will probably have a cracking hangover to nurse, along with the embarrassing memory.

His friends’ll have a field day over this one – ‘remember the time Marvin got stuck in the tree? What an idiot.’

‘Yeah, OK guys, whatever. That was ages ago, can you stop going on about it please?’

Maybe he won’t be alone in his suffering though – drunken moose are said to be fairly common in Sweden, where they often eat fallen fruit that has fermented.

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For me it’s usually when I get my head stuck in the bag of cat food my parents leave out. I don’t know if it’s a law of nature, but my head just can’t be pulled from the bag. It’s like a vacuum, more Dyson than Dirt Devil, that magnetizes my head to the little pellets of goodness.

Of course there’s also the figurative situation that are difficult to get out of. Like the time I got between a rock and a hard place. More specifically, between the fence and the rock covering the hole. Oh, that’s not figurative is it?

Well, how about the time I ate my mother’s underwear. I suspect it was her only pair by the scream she let loose as I gulped down the pinkish-brown cloth. Is it just me or do others like to have the rubbery band cut from their underwears before eating them. It’s like a PB & J without the crust.

Back to my point: figuratively speaking, I was in hot water.

I’m not the only one who gets himself in trouble. It even happens to cute, little hedgehogs.

Vets have rescued a wild hedgehog after it got stuck in a log in Nottingham.

A member of the public took the animal to a surgery in Dunkirk on Monday, where it took staff 45 minutes to cut him free.

Vets used a chisel and a bone saw to free the hedgehog, while a table spoon was used to protect its head.

It made a full recovery and was released back to the area where it was found after being kept overnight at a Vets Now clinic.

‘Quite misshapen’

Dr Ava Firth, who was the senior vet on duty when the hedgehog was taken in on Monday, said: “I’ve never seen anything like this, I don’t think many have.

“He looked quite misshapen when we got him out.

“We made him a nest, gave him some cat food and water and the next morning he looked like a normal little hedgehog again.”

The British Hedgehog Preservation Society says the hedgehog population has been reduced by a quarter in the past decade.

The animals have suffered from a loss of natural habitat, pesticides, and a healthier badger population, it said.

Of course this story reminds me of the fat guy in Long Island that needed to be cut out of his house.

I think his named was Clifford.

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In today’s Big Brother society I’m not allowed to go anywhere without my dog tag. Name, phone number and treat preference are easily read by those I let get close to me.

I also have a chip in my body somewhere, and I’m not talking about the potato chip I just took off of the old man’s plate.

No, this one has an identification number on it and cross references me on some list somewhere. As far as I know I’ve managed to stay off of any terrier lists.

I also have my Together Tag in case the need for emergency care presents itself. Truth be told the Together Tag trumps the standard, run of the mill dog tag, but I like to showboat my jewelry…even if it is just tin.

And finally, I always carry my inoculation papers with me. I keep them in a zippered pocket on the inside of my fur suit. I don’t want to be stopped on the road by some German Shepherd who asks to see my papers and come up empty. If that happens, a guaranteed visit to the local dog pound is in order, and let’s face it, some of us don’t make it out of there.

My point is that you want to make sure you have plenty of identification with you. Not because you may forget who you are, although sometimes that’s a helpful fantasy, but so that others know who you are and can keep tabs on you.

I give this advice, albeit a bit late, to a Scottish visitor who had his passport ripped off by a local thug in New Zealand. Who else but The Telegraph would have the full details?

Police said the Scottish visitor reported the theft from a tour bus on its way to Milford Sound, a coastal beauty spot in South Island’s rugged Fiordland region.

A police spokesman in Te Anau, the nearest town, said the kea had swooped on a brightly coloured courier bag containing the man’s passport when the coach made a stop and the driver opened the luggage compartment.

The passport has not been recovered and, given the 4,600 square mile size of Fiordland’s alpine national park, the officer feared it was unlikely to be.

The Scotsman, who did not want to be identified, said he had been told by the British High Commission in Wellington that there could be a wait of up to six weeks before he receives a replacement passport.

He said he was planning to return home to Scotland in August.

“My passport is somewhere out there in Fiordland. The kea is probably using it for fraudulent claims or something.”

Keas, a highly intelligent green native parrot with a powerful curved beak, long sharp claws and a comical waddling walk, are both beloved and hated by New Zealanders and tourists.

Intensely curious and with a proclivity for mischief making, groups of the birds have been known to vandalise parked cars in a matter of minutes by stripping out the rubber surrounds of windscreens and doors, breaking off wing mirrors, and even shredding tyres.

Known as “the clown of the mountains”, they also have an irresistible interest in anything new or shiny.

That sounds an awful lot like my old man. He’s the clown of the house and when he sees something new or shiny he gets mesmerized like some Manchurian Candidate.

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Today is one of those days, a mini drought in the veritable  rainforest of goofy animal happenings.

Today’s topic, fishing.

Sadly, it’s not about a guppy or a dolphin or a shark. Heck, it’s not even about Abe Vigoda.

No, it’s about a human going fishing.

It’s hunting for the water crowd, but instead of taking down wild animals that can kill, it’s all about throwing a string into water and hope some dumb fish will swallow it.

Usually some armless, legless fish is pulled from the water, clubbed over the head and eaten for dinner. But not in today’s story.

ALEXANDRIA, Minn. (KSAX) – Three years after a Morris woman lost her prosthetic leg on Lake Ida, a Wisconsin woman fished it out and returned it.

It happened over the Fourth of July weekend; Beth Krohn went fishing while at her lake home on Lake Ida. She was out on the lake for about an hour when she felt a snag, but when she started to reel in her line, she quickly began to realize she caught something and it wasn’t a fish.

“It kept coming up and I’m like, ‘Oh my gosh!’” Krohn said. “I hope it’s not a dead body. We got it up and it was a prosthetic leg.”

Pam Riley is from Morris, but she also has a lake home on Lake Ida. She lost her prosthetic leg three years ago while swimming.

After Beth caught the keeper that morning, she called a few places in Alexandria hoping to find its rightful owner. She ended up calling Advanced O and P in Alexandria; turns out she reeled in the leg right in the nick of time.

“We told (the receptionist) we found this prosthetic leg,” Krohn said. “She started laughing and said she was going to put me on hold. She said the lady who lost was there in the office and she wanted to talk to me.”

“How can you top that?” Krohn said. “It’s like going deer hunting and shooting the biggest buck of all.”

It’s like going deer hunting and shooting the biggest buck of all? Uhmm, not really. It’s more like going deer hunting and finding a prosthetic leg in the woods.

That’s the only thing I remember from my Good Canine Citizens Certification class, although I don’t follow the commands today.

It makes my parents feel better about themselves when they say those two words in front of people, expecting me to obey.

After a full minute of them trying to push my booty down on the ground, it invariably ends with a comment like, “He’s usually much better than this.”

My parents know it’s a lie, I know it’s a lie, and most of all the people they’re talking to know it’s a lie.

So who’s to blame? Many will say it’s because I didn’t go to a good school, but c’mon, we all know it’s not where you go but who you know.

Want to go far in life, hang with a successful pack.

Me? Clearly, I’ve decided to rough it in this go around of life.

Let’s see how long it takes the llamas in the article below to figure out what’s really important in life.

A group of seven llamas and an alpaca were taken to obedience lessons by their doting owners Tim and Terri Crowfoot after hearing about how smart the animals could be.

To the Southampton couple’s utter surprise, the llamas flourished and were soon showing the canine students how it was done.

The couple were hoping the herd could be taught a few simple commands but were shocked to find they could fetch, roll over and even complete a mini doggy assault course.

Terri, 65, said: ‘We knew llamas were intelligent, so we thought we’d try to teach them to sit and stay – the same as a dog.

‘We never expected how well they’d take to the obedience lessons though – and they were doing more and more every day.’

The llamas have even taken to pulling the couple around town and country lanes, after they were taught how to pull a cart.

David, Dillon, Thomas, Oscar, Toby, Mary, Ann and Bansky train for about one to three hours a day, their favourite game being fetch which makes ‘their little faces light up’.

Tim, 66, added: ‘Our friends think it’s hilarious – but as long as the llamas are happy and having fun, then so are we.’

 

When I was young, I thought I wanted to be man’s best friend. Turned out I just wanted the treats.

Then there was my first encounter with cats at the animal shelter. They had me believing they were sweet, smart, wonderful creatures. I came to find out, you can’t wag around these creatures without your tail being attacked.

And I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the first time I had to fart in public. Well, let’s just say I let a solid one slip by the goalie while standing in a living room. Color my snout reddish brown, if only because that’s the color of my coat.

But hey, that’s what life is all about; building up experience so we make the right decisions the next go around.

Do I waste my time begging for onions, grapes, or chocolate these days? Heck no. Better to utilize my begging allowance for peanut butter, hot dogs and watermelon (preferably seedless because I hate spitting the seeds out on the floor).

It’s good to see I’m not the only one learning life one experience at a time. Check out this swan’s story.

A swan which fell in love with an old tractor has traded it in for a new model – after falling for a goose.

Hermann Hericks, who works as groundsman of a hotel in Münster, Germany, said the fickle fowl shunned the blue agricultural vehicle after a six-year obsession. He explained “Schwani” now spent all day following a goose around the park.

“Not so long ago, he wouldn’t be parted from my tractor and followed me from the minute I started the engine every day,” Hericks said.

He added: “Now he never lets the goose out of his sight. I am very pleased he has found a new love because, although it’s not ideal, she’s a much better match for him than a tractor.”

Schwani. What a creative name!

It reminds me of my father’s family who named the family dog Heidi. Nothing odd about that except that he has a sister named Heidi too. Not the dog, my father.

Oh, they had a cat too. Name? Kitty.

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