This story is the result of two beers at 3 a.m. when sleep was not an option.
“When I grow up, I want to be a dog.”
Mom smiled. “Hmm, a dog, Maybe you can be a collie, like Lassie?”
“No, I’m going to be a German shepherd.”
“But you don’t know German.”
“I can learn it.”
Twenty years later, a deutscher Schäferhund walked into a bar in Berlin and ordered ein Bier with a Tennessee accent. “You’re not from around here, are you?” the bartender asked.
“Nein. Warum do you ask?”
“Your accent. It’s not local. We get mostly local mutts coming in here.”
“Ich kommen from America.”
“America, huh. Your German is pretty good.”
“Ja, ich still learnen.”
“Well for an American deutscher Schäferhund, you speak it good.”
The deutscher Schäferhund lapped his beer from a dish the bartender placed on the bar along with a plate of dog treats. “Sehr gut,” he said, letting out a bark, then a howl of happiness that drew the attention of the other dogs in the bar who all began to bark and howl in unison. And by the end of the evening, the deutscher Schäferhund was speaking German like a local.