Give in to your heart and be happy for TT football

FIRSTLY, yes, the photograph that runs with my column really is recent. Several readers have complained that it never seems to change and that I never seem to grow older. It’s my good fortune to have somehow maintained my startling good looks through the years.
What follows are the confessions of some well known pitbulls, who have hidden away their sporting silks for needy advice on love and life and the pursuit of dog rice.

Dear Dancing Brave:
Do pitbulls go to heaven? Last Sunday morning I overheard a person on TV claim that only humans go to heaven; he implied that other animals don’t even have souls. This really depressed me. Please, what’s the truth? If pitbulls aren’t allowed into heaven, where do we go?
In limbo, Jack the Pitbull in Switzerland
Dear in Limbo,
Heaven is restricted for anyone who generously brings comfort and happiness to others and fills their lives with peace and love. As such, most pitbulls will almost certainly not go to heaven, especially when you go around chewing off people’s heads because they disagree with you and the way your team of pitbull rejects just spit out those who disobey.
On the other hand, the person overhead may have a shock in store for him when he dies, especially if he is a member of your party, U ‘Ent Cee that.
Dear Dancing Brave:
What is love? I keep thinking I can live without it, that it shouldn’t be important at all. But then I see the attention all other pitbull Football Associations get from the boss and all I do is long for him —— the smell of his neck, the touch of his chin against mine. I live for the sight of his slim body as he trots down the sidewalk on a cool Sunday afternoon.
One part of the pitbull in me wants to be completely free, to roam the world without wanting anything. But it’s hopeless. Why do I ache this way even though every cell in my feline brain says not to bother with love at all? — Troubled Pitbull Association from South Trinidad
Dear Troubled,
Ambivalence is a natural part of all romantic encounters especially football. But, inevitably, you must give in to your heart to be happy.
Next time that big pitbull with the hat trots by, throw yourself on the sidewalk and start rolling around in front of him. It won’t take long for your doubts to disappear — at least for the afternoon.
Dear Dancing Brave:
I am a human writing to you in utter desperation. Recently members of my association and myself adopted a few pitbulls from the local animal shelter.
In just three years, they have repaid my generosity by overthrowing me from power, shedding their dog hair on my best clothes in Barbados. I also suspect one of them after talking to a Guyanese pitbull lawyer. I am contemplating whacking them regularly to calm down their burning desires. Oh Dancing, what can I do to make my association a happy home again? —- Fed Up Pitbull Jamaican Cricket Owner
Dear Fed Up,
You could just PAT yourself and be glad you left. Or you could PAT yourself and smile, because you are back and there is even a TEDDY bear to hug.
Dancing Brave has only published the following to show once again why the phrase “gone to the dogs” universally refers to depravity, decline and stupidity.
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