I will not eat the cats' food before they eat it or after they throw it up.

The garbage collector is NOT stealing our stuff.

The Litter Box is not a cookie jar.

The sofa is not a 'face towel'.

I will not play tug-of-war with Dad's underwear when he's on the toilet.

Sticking my nose into someone's crotch is an unacceptable way of saying 'hello'.

I must shake the rainwater out of my fur before entering the house - not after.

The cat is not a 'squeaky toy' so when I play with him and he makes that noise, it's usually not a good thing.

Dr. Epstein was a renowned physician who earned his medical degree in his home town and left for Manhattan. Soon he was invited to give a speech back in his home town. As he placed his papers on the lectern they slid off onto the floor and when he bent over to retrieve them, at precisely the wrong instant, he passed a gigantic fart and the microphone amplified it throughout the room.

He was embarrassed but regained his composure to deliver his paper. After he concluded, he raced out the stage door, never to be seen in his hometown until decades later.

His return those many years later was to visit his ailing, elderly mother. He reserved a hotel room under a false name, Levy, and arrived under cover of darkness.

The desk clerk asked him, "Is this your first visit to our city, Mr. Levy?"

Dr. Epstein replied, "Well, young man, no, it isn't. I grew up here but
then I moved away."

"Why haven't you visited?" asked the clerk.

"I did visit once, many years ago, but an embarrassing thing happened and since then I've been too ashamed to return."

The clerk consoled him, "Sir, while I don't have your life experiences, one thing I've learned is that often what seems embarrassing to me isn't even remembered by others. I'll bet that's true of your incident, too."

Dr. Epstein replied, "Son, I hope that's the case with my incident."

"Was it a long time ago?"

"Yes, many years."

"Was it before or after the Epstein Fart?"

An older, tired-looking dog wandered into my yard; I could tell from his collar and well-fed belly that he had a home and was well taken care of.

He calmly came over to me, I gave him a few pats on his head; he then followed me into my house, slowly walked down the hall, curled up in the corner and fell asleep.

An hour later, he went to the door, and I let him out.

The next day he was back, greeted me in my yard, walked inside and resumed his spot in the hall and again slept for about an hour. This continued off and on for several weeks.

Curious I pinned a note to his collar: 'I would like to find out who the owner of this wonderful sweet dog is and ask if you are aware that almost every afternoon your dog comes to my house for a nap.'

The next day he arrived for his nap, with a different note pinned to his collar: 'He lives in a home with 6 children, 2 under the age of 3 he's trying to catch up on his sleep. Can I come with him tomorrow?'