Dogs changing a light bulb

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So I'm sitting there listening to my cat complaining about dogs and where he thought their lot in life truly belonged.  (He gets really morose when he has a little too much catnip in the evening.)  I'm getting a little bored with his repetitive complaints and ask him to get some new material.  He says, "like what???"  I respond with, "Why don't you use the old joke about lightbulbs and give your take on what each breed's answer would be."

"Delightful!" was his answer.  I thought that would be the end of it, but he insisted that I post them here on my blog.  I agreed to.  This is as many breeds as he could think of.  Perhaps it will stop his complaining for at least a few nights.  I mean, I'm getting really annoyed at him and am seriously considering a purchase of kitty quicksand litter or an electrified scratching post.


"Dogs changing a light bulb??? 
You're kidding, right? Ha ha ha ...
Sundown, you are so friggin' funny."

How many dogs does it take to screw in a light bulb?

"First, I'll put all the light bulbs in
a little circle before I decide how
to change itl"

"Hah Hah.  A light bulb?  That's a . . .well .
gee . . . I've always wanted to change a . . .
is it suppertime yet? . . . I need a nap. 
Alright, who stepped on my damn ears
again?  I'm sorry, what was the question
again?"

"Just one dog. And then I'll replace any
wiring that's not up to code.  Go ahead . . .
time me."

"Who gives a rat's behind? I can still play with
my squeaky toys in the dark."   

"Yo quiero Taco Bulb. Screw eeet. 
We don't need no stinking light bulb."

"Why change it? I don't need any light
in order to pee - I can still FEEL where
the carpet is."

"You know I can't reach that stupid lamp!  Thanks,
that was just what I needed for my poor ego.  Gosh,
I guess I might as well go run in front of a car now
or something because I can't change a light bulb. 
Is it time for my meds yet?  Say, do I look like one
of those ducks who's been caught in an oil spill off
the coast?"

"Ask me that question again, and I will rip your
nuts off.  Got it?"

"I'll change it as soon as I've led these people from
the dark, checked to make sure I haven't missed any,
and made just one more perimeter patrol to see that
no one has tried to take advantage of the situation."

"It ain't moving.  Who gives a damn?"

"I'll just pop it in while I'm bouncing off the
walls and furniture.  How's that sound?"

"Oh, me, me!!!!! Pleeeeeeeeeze let me change
the light bulb!  Can I?  Can I?  Huh?  Huh? Huh?
Can I? Pleeeeeeeeeze, please, please, please! 

"I'll just blow in the Border Collie's ear and he'll
do it. By the time he finishes rewiring the house,
my nails will be dry."

"The sun is shining, the day is young, we've got
our whole lives ahead of us, and you're inside
worrying about a stupid, burned out bulb?  You're
messing with my zen, dude."

"Friggin’ make me, bitch."

"Light bulb?  Where?  I'm sorry, but I don't see
any friggin' light bulb!"

"Ummm . . . that depends.  Probably only one if I
can wrap my tongue around the base the same way
I can lick all the disgusting stuff off my nose. 
Say, is there a pretty bow on the light bulb, too?"

Struggles . . . and the reason for them

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Waxing philisophical today . . .

My oldest daughter, Corey, was 7 years old and just beginning her fascination with the menagerie of creatures God placed on this world. Even a mere trip to the back yard brought her face-to-face with mysteries that enthralled her. One day while playing in the back yard near a large oak tree that still stands close to 100 feet tall to this day, she happened upon a butterfly's cocoon.  Imagine her delight as she noticed movement within the cocoon and soon noticed a small hole from which the butterfly was attempting to emerge. She stood there, oblivious to everything else around her, waiting for its entry into the world. The butterfly's tiny legs and body only made it through that tiny hole about 1/5 of its body length, and then it seemed to give up, unable to squeeze through the tiny hole.


Mortified that the butterfly would be unable to get through that tiny hole in its cocoon and would soon die from exposure or predator, Corey ran into the house to get the scissors she used to cut construction paper. Upon her return to the cocoon, scissors in hand, she carefully cut at one end of the existing hole to enlarge it. She successfully enlarged the hole, and the butterfly renewed its efforts to emerge from the cocoon. With its exit now enlarged, the butterfly easily made its way out of the cocoon, but Corey noticed that it was not the beautiful, bright butterfly that she expected. Its body was swollen, and its wings were small and shriveled. It flopped onto the ground and crawled about feebly, unable to take to the air with its malformed, misshapen wings. Feeling sorry for butterfly who couldn't fly, she found a mayonnaise jar and kept the butterfly in the open jar for days (unknown to her mother and me), hoping that its wings would eventually take their proper shape.

When the butterfly died a few days later, she finally told me of it. She was heartbroken and didn't understand why a butterfly would come into the world only to die that way. When she relayed to me about how she had helped the butterfly emerge into the world, I realized (having a degree in Biology) what had happened and why it had happened. And in the answer to her, there is a lesson all of us must realize about life and the challenges we face, even during the times we’re wallowing in self-pity over some hardship we’re facing.

What Corey did not realize when she set the butterfly free by making its exit easy was that there was a reason that the hole was small and why the butterfly had to go through the struggle to enter the world in that way. The hole was small because it's nature's way of forcing excess fluid from the butterfly's body into the wings, strengthening them so they would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon. In removing the struggle for the butterfly, her kindness also ensured the butterfly would emerge crippled.

If we run away from the challenges and struggles that are thrown our way, we do not allow ourselves to become stronger. If we do not allow ourselves to grow at the pace that has been put before us, we take away the lessons that give us that strength. Like the butterfly, there are reasons we are taken to task - to eventually allow us to take flight from what we learn and what we endure from the struggles.