“Mutt” is a mean word. So is “mongrel.” I’m pleased everyone is sensitized to the impact words have. “Dog.” Use the word “dog.”

I am a dog, as good-natured, complex, fallible and canine as any Afghan hound or Yorkshire terrier. And now I have to let it out. I’m not a star player on the dog show circuit. It’s not fair.

My name is Rover Fido Spot III, and I am a pocket poodle/St. Bernard mix. I don’t get stud fees. Town & Country magazine doesn’t care if I get heartworms. Bruce Reisner is out of room, and I’m dashing off this note on his computer. He won’t mind. He’s advanced. Sharp dresser. Nice guy to live with. Food’s all right.

Mr. Reisner has been aggrieved because he belongs to an ethnic group, is seriously low net worth and feels he is not fairly represented within city ways and means. He’s cut out of the loop. Too, that geezer has seen his share of ethnic intimidation, job discrimination, hostile environments and the furry undercarriage that transports prosperity to the lucky local few.

Mr. Reisner is throwing a bird about this, that’s why I had to get involved.