The Conversation: Thanks for the Bone

Tell me quickly and in just a few words, what was the crime that eventually brought down the Nixon administration connected to an incident we call “Watergate?”

I’ll wait.

It was something about a break-in at a hotel by that name to steal stuff from the Democratic Party offices there. Or something. Remember?

No? OK, me neither.

But I do remember the fallout and the lesson there. Sometimes it is not the crime but rather the attempt to cover up that implies terrific guilt.

One political party trying to steal intel from another should be about as surprising as one NFL team using lipreaders to “listen in” on the strategies being discussed in an opposing team’s huddle. (I’d be willing to bet this and more has happened.) It may be bad sportsmanship in a football or political arena but should hardly come as a shock.

Best to fess up once you are caught or, you know, “Watergate.”

Journalism 101 says to ask the basic questions (who/what/where/ when/why/how) and these are usually fairly easy to answer. Sometimes, someone who is asked doesn’t know an answer at the time and simply says so and is even willing to call back with the information at a later time. No biggie.

Even sensitive information handed over with honesty is usually received in an empathetic manner.

Accidents happen.

Mistakes are made.

We are all only human, after all.

I have a really bad dog, Phil. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a part of the family and a sweet puppy but a bad, bad dog. I wanted to call her “Penny” because she is shinny-copper in color but, alas, the kids named her and it stuck. We found her in the back of a pickup truck in Morehead next to a “free” sign at the Walmart and got what we paid for, fair and square.

She all but eats me alive when I walk through the door, even if I’ve only stepped outside to check the mail.

Except sometimes, she doesn’t.

Sometimes ... where’s Phil?

There she is, slinking sideways along a wall, not looking at me at all because she is trying to be invisible. Or there she is, standing, stock-still, behind a curtin pulled tight hiding her puppy head — with the entire back-end of her sticking out.

When she acts this way, she is telling on herself for doing something she should not have done simply by acting guilty.

Then I have to go looking until I stumble upon the shredded roll of toilet paper or devoured shoes or peed-upon jeans left on the floor in the laundry room.

I don’t walk through the door intent on an investigation of the misdeeds of Phil. She tells on herself. I¿then HAVE to go look for her crime.