In my relatively new role as blog writer, I am endlessly fascinated by how people respond to what I write and to the stories and photos I take. I mean, it will not come as a shock to you that I have an ego too.

One thing I am interested in the semiotics involved when people tell me something I wrote is the “best post ever.” I love praise, of course, and this week I scored a record number of “best posts ever,” there were closed to a dozen.

That is good, much better than the post I got from Patty, who often tells me I’m a thoughtless monster who should be banned from posting at all.

Mostly, the honor of “best post ever” goes to stories about dogs or cats. I have about four million visits to my blog each year, and a lot of people come here because they have read one of my dog books. Dog lovers never tire of reading about dogs, blessedly.

Red is the all-time leader in “best post” categories, before him, Fate and Frieda and Lenore took top honors. Once in awhile, a post on a cat will get a “best post ever.” A chicken never will. Bud is moving up fast, he got three “best posts ever” just this week.

Rose and Frieda got a lot of “best posts,” but it was less frequently applied then. And Simon was a “best post” champion. Had he lived, he would have been the all-time champ.

I wrote a post once about chickenshit, and how I try to drive the chickens off of the porch- I spray them with a hose –  and a chicken lover wrote me to say the post was “one of the most penetrating stories about chickens in the English language ever.”

Well, I’ll sure take that compliment, but a little voice inside of my head said, “you know what?…Sorry, Jon, no.” That’s certainly what Maria would have said, had I been foolish enough to ask her if the chickenshit piece was iconic.

Sometimes, the label is aggressively asserted, as when Jean wrote me to tell me a piece I wrote about Red “was one of the most beautiful pieces of writing in the English language, don’t even think about saying no.” I didn’t say no, at least to her. But honestly, how many of my 28,000 posts since 20o7 could she possibly have read?

When I think about it, it’s pretty simple. If people love something they read, or really agree with it, it is sometimes pro forma that it must be the best thing ever written, or one of the best things. What else could touch them in that way? I’ll buy that approach.

I do know better than to believe that, but it’s like eating vanilla cake, you know it’s not good for you, but it tastes good.

Some people are quite openly puzzled and disappointed when they discover I am also writing about other things – spirituality, life, love, people. Just the other day Wendy posted a message on my Facebook Page saying she missed my writing about the dogs, animals and life on the farm.

This left me at an uncharacteristic loss for words, since I wrote about Bud, Red, Fate, the donkeys and sheep and life on the farm a lot this week, like every day as Pete  Davidson would say.

It’s odd that someone would say that without having read the blog. I imagine she came across a refugee piece. I briefly wanted to send Wendy a few choice words about never criticizing me in any way, but I thought  better of it.

But then, I do know what’s going on there.

Wendy meant she was sick of my writing about old people in assisted care, or refugees and wanted to get to the good stuff ever morning, like Bud eating chicken poop. I can read the codes by now. She obviously hadn’t read the blog, but had a sense of different kinds of stuff being on there.

An alternative version of “best post” is “favorite posts ever.” Bud scored that today.

The sheep have never drawn a “best post ever.” What people love most love about posts are stories about the animals and their interior lives. Everything else for them is about something they have to endure to get to the animals.  I get scores of letters a day telling me what Bud or Red or Fate are thinking.

The Army of Good has drawn thousands of people from all over the country to my blog. They do want to read about the refugees and Mansion residents, they sometimes care about the animals, sometimes not.  I get a few “best posts ever” about the Mansion.

There are different constituencies out there.

Sometimes, I’ll write about a spiritual revelation of mine, or the lessons of life I am struggling with. I have gotten a few “best posts ever” on those topics, but it is unusual.

I get a lot of response to those pieces, but the spiritual people aren’t into “best posts” posting. I asked one man why he thought so many of my dog pieces were “best posts.” Well, he said, “we are just tricking you into giving us what we want.” Clever, those raptors.

I don’t have a “best post ever” in my head, personally, I’m not sure there is any such thing. People may have a best post for them,  but I’ve written 28,000 posts since I’ve started the blog, I couldn’t begin to choose a single favorite.

I’d love the idea of publishing a book of “Best Posts Ever,” but my editor won’t return my phone calls as it is, why rile him up even more?

I like the “best post” posts for the obvious reasons, it makes me feel good about what I write. I get to write a “best post ever” every day, nourishing ego food for the writer.

They also tell me about the reactions of readers to the things I am writing, that is a valuable thing for me to know. Please, never hesitate to tell me I wrote the best thing you ever read that day. It will make me very happy, and calm as a Lab.

Personally, I think this post is the best post ever. I can’s say why, but it will spare me having to go back and reading 28,000 posts by me. Nobody should have to do that.