I could earn a fortune performing the simplest tasks, if dogs had money. Throwing a stick, playing tug of war with an old piece of rope: I would charge premium for these services and the stupid mutts would pay through their cold, damp noses. And if lazy dogs had money? They're going to get ripped off six ways to Sunday by unscrupulous veterinary snake-oil salesmen: "Take two tablespoonfuls of this patent elixir to promote energy and prevent the quick, brown fox from jumping over you."
So, of course, being notoriously prone to acting on instinct, dogs are eventually going to rack up enormous debts and lose all their money. Just think of all the rawhide chew impulse purchases they would make in pet stores. Then there's all the fines they'd be required to pay for pooping on prohibited sections of the sidewalk. Cash would drain from dog bank accounts like so much flea and tick shampoo disappearing down a plughole. This would leave me hanging around outside the kennels with sheaves of unpaid stick-throwing invoices in my hands.