A while back, the manufacturer of a certain popular beverage aired an advertisement showing polar bears romping with penguins. Since then, I have seen this erronious arrangement in no fewer than forty places.

Puh-leeze!!! Ladies and Gentlemen, I should like to make an announcement. Polar bears live primarily north of the Arctic circle. Penguins, on the other hand, live predominantly south of the Antarctic Circle. There is some 9,000 miles separating the two.

North is north and south is south, and never the twain shall meet... except on Madison Avenue!

I don't know if there are others in this world who are addicted to animal crackers, but I must confess. I am well and truly hooked! The giant, economy-size bag resides in one particular cupboard which is just inside the kitchen doorway. It seem that every time I pass by, my hand automatically sneaks into the cupboard and returns with a handful of assorted "critters".

This "grab-and-run" technique has one major drawback. The "whole" animal crackers, being quite mobile, seem to migrate to the top of the bag. The wounded ones, on the other hand, always seem to settle to the bottom. However, below the region of the "crippled critters" there is a layer of amorphous blobs. On careful inspection, it can be determined that these are bits and pieces of former appendages, which have come to be known as "feetsies".

Since I go through a bag of these delicacies each week, I have begun to notice a particular oddity; there seem to be many more "feetsies" in the bag, than can possibly be generated by the "crippled critters". Based on a recent scientific study (I dissected and classified the last three bags), there are 5.7 +/- 0.8 extra "feetsies" for every body in the bunch.

Now, I am really puzzled. I see only two possibilities for this skewed distribution.

1) Some fiend at the animal cracker factory is purposely mutilating the animals... breaking off the legs and eating just the bodies (and heads). The discarded "feetsies" go back into the bin, and are bagged up with the rest of the herd!

or 2) These are really not "animal" crackers, but "alien" crackers. I know of no creature on this planet with nine legs (except a daddy-long-legs, with one leg missing).

Either of these two alternatives leaves me fearful of contacting the management. If indeed the company has a resident fiend, it is most likely the boss! On the other hand, if these ARE "alien" crackers, they are probably being made by aliens from some distant galaxy. If I get too durious, they'll brand me as one of those "Trouble-Making Earthlings", and they'll cut off my supply.

I suppose my best course of action is NO action. If I just keep quiet and pretend I don't know anything about this disproportionate ratio, no one will be any the wiser. If worst comes to worst, I can always feed the extra feetsies to the dog.

My dog has decided that he likes Animal Crackers. Well... "likes" is probably too mild a term to describe his latest addiction! He just can't seem to get enough of them and, consequently, neither can I.

He can be sound asleep on the bed, at the far end of the house, or busy barking at the mailman. However, if I am so unwise as to open one particular cabinet... he comes on a dead-run! If he is outside, he stands at the back door and barks until someone lets him in.

If I am quick enough, I can grab a few cookies and then pretend I don't have anything at all. So far, he hasn't bought that line! Like his hearing, his nose is attuned to "Animal Crackers!" He can tell exactly which hand you have them hidden in, or which pocket. I found out very quickly, that putting them in your pocket is a BAD idea. He will use anything at his disposal to get at the "goodies"... Nose, paws and tongue, all go into hyper-drive, leaving the general area around the pocket a soggy, sticky mess. If he is unable to reach them by physical means, he will plant himself in front of me and whine.

Another interesting trick he has learned is to stand on his hind legs for an extended period. This comes in handy when I inadvertantly leave the cupboard door open just a crack. He will "hop" into a position where he can just barely reach the bottom of the door, then "flip" it open with his nose. He still can't reach the cookies, but he can see the bag. He will stand there, blocking the doorway and hopping around, all the while making these pathetic moaning noises.

Eventually, he get's his way. Did you ever try to reason with an eighty-five pound dog with a one-track mind? I don't recommend it!

The other day, my wife brought home a BIG bag of Animal Crackers. Hmmm... I thought, "I haven't had animal crackers for years..." A lot of years, to be quite truthful. I opened the bag and my chin dropped to the floor. I pulled out a handful of amorphous blobs and attempted to identify them. There was something that looked a little like a horse but, then again, it could also be a goat or a cow. Another lump was, I think, supposed to be an elephant. Either that, or there is a five-legged creature running about, which I have never seen. Down through the bag, I rummaged in vain, trying to find an animal cracker that looked like a real animal.

I have fond childhood memories of a bright red box with caged creatures pictured clearly on the sides. The aroma of the arrowroot flour was enough to set your mouth to watering. Each of the carefully stamped cookies inside was a clear cut copy of one of the animals on the box. I would carefully match each cookie to its image, hoping to have a complete set. This did not happen often. For some reason, the gorillas were very rare. On the other hand, there were usually three or four lions in every box. I suppose that says something about being "King of the Beasts"!

Over a period of several days, I would slowly devour the entire menagerie. When you have something THAT good, you want to make it last as long as possible. Actually, a box of Animal Crackers was a rare treat at our house. "Pilgrim Cookies" and "Vanilla Wafers" were more in keeping with our budget.

Now, I return to the present and this large bag of "things". I munch a few of what I think might be camels... at least they have a hump, and I don't think they are brahma bulls. I wait a minute or two, looking for the familiar flavor. NOTHING! I might as well be eating little lumps of cardboard. These are the closest thing to being totally tasteless since the book "101 Uses for a Dead Cat" was published. I tried a couple more, munching and wishing. Still nothing!

Somewhat disappointed, I rolled the top of the bag down and fastened it with a clip. Gosh! Can't afford to have these things go stale, now can we? I tucked them back into the cupboard, way at the back, and went for a little drive around town.

At the fifth store I visited, there on the shelf was a stack of those beautiful red and gold boxes. I looked at the price, checked my wallet, and decided I could afford the investment in two boxes. I hurried home and opened the first box with eager anticipation. I pried open the glued-down lid, almost ruining the box. I had to cut open the heat-sealed inner wrap. The first puff of that pent up aroma sent me straight to the refrigerator for a tall glass of milk. Then, one by one, I released the animals from their captivity. And, one by one, I consumed them. There weren't but half as many as I had remembered, but the old familiar shapes were there. Buffalo, Bear, Tiger, Giraffe... All of my old friends. All of them, that is, but the Gorilla. They are truly on the "endangered species" list!