POINTERS FROM SAM

Vern repaid an old debt to my father by giving me a dog. One undersize misfit sat off by itself in his yard full of athletic German shorthairs. The dog saw me and barked. “That’s the dog I had in mind for you,” Vern said. “Some guy in Ohio sent him back, said he was too small and wouldn’t hunt. We’ve been calling him Pee Wee.”

You’re not supposed to look a gift horse in the mouth. If I did, I’d have seen an underbite. Pee Wee had other problems too.