SPECIAL TO THE TIMES/NEWS

If this is the boss lady's idea of a joke, I for one am not amused.

Yes, it's me again - Sadie, the People Dog, and you'll never believe what she gave me for my birthday. A puppy! What was she thinking?!

I'm not the only one wondering. Friends and family have asked in solicitous tones, "Why are you complicating your life at this stage with a puppy?"

"Sadie turns 12 this birthday," she answers, and with a misty-eyed glance in my direction, continues, "I wouldn't want to be left without a dog."

Why on earth would I leave? It's taken me years to get her trained the way I want her. Besides, I couldn't in good conscience leave when she's taking on these strange behaviors.

Like this birthday so-called gift. Thank goodness a few other people thought up more appropriate presents, like home-baked doggie bones.

One friend even left a greeting on the boss lady's answering machine-- an a capella vocal rendition of "Happy Birthday, dear Sadie."

And I know it's difficult to buy for a dog who has everything, but you can't blame me for being just a tad miffed when my very own human gets me something I could so totally live without.

She plants this wriggling handful of black fur in front of me and coos, "Sadie, this is your new little sister, Daphne Beech Dogwood."

First of all, I never asked for a little sister, and second of all, Daphne Beech Dogwood?! What kind of name is that?

The boss lady clearly has pretensions of grandeur. Everybody knows, you don't give three names to a dog unless it's purebred.

Rest assured, this little mongrel is anything but pure - unlike me, who has a pedigree of impeccable lineage.

"I gave a lot of thought to getting another springer spaniel," I heard the boss lady tell a friend. "But I was ready for a dog who couldn't outsmart me."

Well, as they say, let's not go there.

The puppy, I am told, has a black labrador mother and golden retriever father. She takes after her mother.

She also takes after me - quite literally - at every opportunity. I can't go anywhere without Daffy, or whatever her name is, dogging - if you will - my every step.

She does have a lot to learn, and I guess I could show her a trick or two.

Like a recent Sunday when the boss lady was entertaining guests for lunch on the patio. They'd finished eating and were enjoying leisurely conversation over wine. Just the moment of inattentiveness I'd been waiting for.

Starting from a reclined position, I sailed through the air, grabbed the remainder of a loaf of bread from the side-table, and had it half devoured even before making a perfect three-point landing.

Worthy of a gold in the Doggie Olympics!

"I've never seen a dog move that quickly," gasped one of the guests. "And a three-legged one at that!"

I may be 12, but I've still got it.

(Mary Koch is a freelance writer and editor. She can be contacted at www.marykoch.com)