A song from me to you...

Now that I'm officially a member of Stew's family, I have an overwhelming urge to worry about what people think of me. I'm beginning to understand how Stew feels when someone declines to purchase the high-quality furniture he offers at a modest price. He's confident it's because they don't like him. He's always telling me, "Bogart, sales is a relationship game... people buy from people they like... if they aren't buying from you, then it's because they don't like you." So, since writing my politically-charged entry just after Election Day, I've been worrying that I've either offended or alienated (or both) some friends and family. Then again, I'm reminded that life is short - especially for a dog - and that I traveled from New Orleans to Robbinsdale in search of a better life. I deserve to say whatever I feel is right. That said, I'd like to share a song I wrote that best sums up how I feel. I call it, Streets of Robbinsdale, and it goes something like this...

Streets of Robbinsdale
I came here looking for something,
I couldn't find anywhere else.
Hey, I'm not trying to be nobody...
Just want a chance to be myself.
I've done a thousand miles of thumbin',
I've worn blisters on my paws.
Trying to find me something better
On the streets of Robbinsdale.

Chorus:
You don't know me, but you don't like me.
You say you care less how I feel.
But how many of you that sit and judge me,
Have ever walked the streets of Robbinsdale?

Spent some time in the Big Easy.
Spent a night there in the jug.
They threw this drunk dog in my jail cell...
Took fifteen dollars from that pug.
Left him my leash and my old rawhide...
Don't want folks thinkin' that I'd steal.
Then I thanked him as I was leaving, and
I headed for the streets of Robbinsdale.
Repeat Chorus

* Adapted from Streets of Bakersfield, written and performed by the late, great Buck Owens (of Hee-Haw fame). The song was also re-made by one of my all-time favorites, Dwight Yoakam.