When Alan Alda's dear dog died, a friend suggested that he have it stuffed (so he would "always have him"). Alda agreed.
"I took him to the taxidermist," he recalled later, "and the taxidermist says, 'Well what kind of expression did he have on his face?' I didn't know dogs had emotions. 'He had a dog look on his face.'
"So he does the dog up and about six weeks later the dog comes back. He's unrecognizable. And he's ferocious-looking! So we put him in the living room by the fireplace. People were afraid to come into the room! They'd walk in the room and back out... So we put him on the front porch. People were afraid to make deliveries!"

[The moral? "Never have your dog stuffed."]

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