Monday, January 31, 2005

Dogs 141-143

What this look says is that he knows he's tied up to a World of Knowledge and we have all failed him by not teaching him how to read when he asked. What's wrong, world? What's wrong with us.

This is probably definitely the harness talking, but don't you think if you put some goofy fake reindeer antlers on him, you'd essentially have the dog from that Seuss Grinch book?

And no, I didn't see the movie with Jim Carrey. I have some standards, dude.

Something about this guy makes me think that if you magically transformed him into a human, you'd have the perfect English butler. This is just an impression I'm getting here.

Dogs 131-140

The color on this dude's face + The reflection in his eyes = A pretty easy Borg joke I could make here.

But I'm not here to grab low-hanging comedic fruit. Or at least I don't think I am.

Here's another one of those dogs who can apparently be left waiting outside the door to a grocery store without any sort of leash, just hanging out, waiting for their owners to come back outside. I want to know what the training for that behavior looks like.

I have somewhere a collection of Cthulhu mythos stories written by people other than Lovecraft, and one of them is called "The Hounds of Tindalos."

I have no idea why that came to mind just now.

I would be really curious to know what breed this guy is, because I have a hunch it doesn't exist.

What I'm saying is that I think he was built by taping a bunch of bats together.

I told you I was right about the eyebrows. Or the eyes. Whatever. Just look at that face! My housemate would want to hug him and kiss the top of his head.

What do dogs think when we kiss their heads, anyway? Do they understand it? Or do they think we're just trying to eat them and not being very successful?


I know a lot of people think of dogs as dumb and unobservant or whatever, but I'll have you know this dude saw me coming about a mile away and he wasn't fooled at all. Not even a little bit.

At first glance you'd think these guys are totally mismatched, but for some reason the longer I look at them, the more it makes sense. Like on a cosmic scale.

Did you ever have a bike that you thought you'd locked up pretty securely and then had it up and vanish one day for no good reason?

There was a reason. I'm just sayin'.

"Spare change, ma'am? Spare change?"

Man, what is the deal with the pole he's tied to. Does that part of town have a problem with parking meter theft or something?

Presented here for your consideration is a normal-sized dog in front of a giant-ass huge SUV, maybe trying to pretend it isn't there by acting nonchalant and hoping it doesn't fall on him.

Dogs 121-130

Sometimes you'll be walking around the Mission on your way somewhere when suddenly you see something so damned fluffy you just can't stand it. This was one of those times. I'd've hugged him if I hadn't heard him barking a loud, forceful bark on my way up the sidewalk.

This guy just wants to know where his tail went. He's calm about it right now because he's sure there's a reasonable answer (like maybe it's just behind a part of him that the camera can't see), but if there isn't one? I don't know -- he might cry.

It's the look of happy patience like this fella's got that lets you know dogs have a kind of faith in us -- faith that we'll return, faith that maybe we'll have something tasty for them to gnaw on -- that makes them basically the greatest animals ever. I'm including platypuses and the quokka in that estimate.

I swear this was the softest-looking dog in the entirety of the Castro on the Saturday I took this. The kind you want to pick up and carry away and maybe make a little rug out of. OK, not so much that last part.

Softest. Dog. Ever. And look at the eyes! That's his baby harp seal impression. You know, the kind that are always on the calendars? Right; those.

I have no idea what breed he is; my guess based on his tail is maybe part Akita or something? Can you imagine what it'd be like to have a dozen of these in the same place at once?

Somewhere there's a dog high school reunion missing its "Most Likely to Look Like My Crazy Gun-Nut Bus Driver" nominee from 1994.

I was actually trying to capture the way this dude's tail was wagging -- like he thought he could make a wish come true or something -- but now I'm struck by how much he looks like one of those weird carved-wood dogs you see in the living rooms of rich people with nothing better to do. At least one of the houses that line Marina Blvd has one of these. Somebody back me up on this.

Look how clean that damn sidewalk is! Look how puzzled this guy is! "I didn't realize it, but this is the Parking Meter That Jumps You Through Time. Can someone untie me from it before this weirdly sterile dystopia collapses in on itself in an orgy of violence from which nothing living or ordered could hope to escape?"

What is it about these yellow Labs and their mournful faces, even when their tails are wagging? I was this close to giving this fella a slice of the pizza I'd bought (I was walking out of Giorgio's on Clement).

I think it's the eyebrows. Or just the eyes in general.

Okay, you can try to tell me these two aren't the toughest-looking pair you've ever seen, but you know in your heart you'd be full of lies.

The soundtrack to this picture is something with a solid beat, a bass line thicker than year-old molasses, and a guitar run through a wah pedal that even Hendrix would've backed away from in silence, just shaking his head.

These two on the other hand might not be the toughest, but they are definitely the most ready to spring into action.* Or at least the one in front is. I'm not so sure about the one in the back.

* catchphrase (c) Topato Potato

Dogs 111-120

Could this little guy get any more satisfied-looking? I hardly think so. He really looks like he's accomplished something neither you nor I know about.

Note that the big one's not actually tied to anything. Sometimes you just gotta have a buddy to take a nap next to, is all. Speaking of which, look at that little guy with the double-leash action. That's fantastic.

I know it's tucked underneath him, but doesn't it seriously look like this dude has no right front leg? Doesn't seem to have affected his mood any, though, I'll give him that.

"Did anybody drop a menu? I've got a menu here. Looks to be from a Chinese place. Maybe Thai. And also, I'm tied to this parking meter with a length of plastic yellow rope. I just thought I'd let you all know that. OK. OK, thanks."

Look at the way this fella's ears sweep back. Like he's built for speed. Do you think when he runs, he lays down a trail of flame behind him like the DeLorean from Back to the Future?

I don't think. I know.

Heh. Heh heh. Ha!

Ha ha ha ha ha ha!



These two are just trying to pretend they don't know each other. I think the little guy is just embarrassed because he's only one color all over. Man, it's what's on the inside that counts!

This was at the farmer's market down on Alemany & Bayshore, and I was so completely overwhelmed with this little dude and his impassive fuzzy face that I totally forgot to ask the guy with the bag what his name was.

I'm going to pretend it was Agamemnon.

This look says he's worried that the "CONSTRUCTION ZONE" is actually him.

Pulled up one morning on the way to work next to this fella, riding with his surfboard, back of the truck, no worries. He appears unconcerned, for instance, that the dense fog behind him appears to have dissolved the entire world.

As a rule, I try not to get too close to poodles. I just don't trust 'em; despite the fact that I've met a couple of nice ones, I've also met some damned irritable ones. This guy looks like he's just been rebuffed, though doesn't he? As though the store owner had waved a broom at him threateningly from his doorway?

"My word. Well, I never!"

Dogs 101-110

These are the sorts of dogs you almost can't help but talk to.

"Hey, boys! Who are some good dogs, huh? Who are some good dogs? What are you lookin' at? What you waggin' your tails for?
"Why do you have two collars on?"

THE BLACK ONE: "What was that, was he askin' about my two collars? Don't tell me he was askin' about my two collars."

THE TAN ONE: "Dude, don't ask, okay, I'm waggin' my tail here, but observe that I'm also getting ready to run. Yeah, I know I'm tied to this telephone pole. I know."

I need you all to pause for a moment and acknowledge Tiny here. That's his name. Tiny.

Tiny is your new boss.

That is all.

OK, so by now I know that these muzzle-looking dealies are in fact a kind of leash that's supposed to be better for the dog, but all I can actually think about is that this guy looks for all the world like "the fat kid" in one of those comics from like the 1930s that's about baseball and red wagons and really big lollipops. He looks like his name is "Pugso" or "Budsley" or "Homeslice" or something. Doesn't he? Help me out here, people.

The deal here is that the one on the left is definitely the crazy one. He wants to rush in there and knock over the convenience store -- he doesn't give a shit about the security cameras -- but his buddy with the white patch on his chest is kind of like his "social conscience." Also, he's bigger.

AND LO -- from out of the Wretched Mass of People in front of the Hallowed In-n-Out Burger, a Dog did come to me bathed in a Sea of Golden Light. Though he were tie'd to a Parking Meter by a mighty Leash of Cunning Design.

And he did say unto me, "Give me mine Freedom that I may go forth unto the People and deliver unto them a Great Big Poop or Something," but that didst not sound like a very Good Idea to me, and I did walk from there forth-with.

This picture was taken as proof that Sony has developed the next-next-next-generation Aibo and may in fact be replacing your "fleshdogs" with perfect, animatronic duplicates even as you sit there reading this. The pink/blue glow means they're feeling friendly, but if that light ever turns blood-red, well, just trust me, it doesn't mean they're in an Xmas mood.

Not only was this guy able to fall asleep outside a pretty rowdy-sounding bar on what I think was Haight St. on a weekend night, he ... well, that's an achievement in and of itself, really.

Check out that jacket wrapped around him. Someone knew they weren't going to be coming out for a while and wanted their dog to be comfy. I can respect the hell out of that.

Here we see another one of the Nth-generation Aibos in "waiting" mode outside Cafe Rain Tree in the inner Sunset. It should be noted that "waiting" mode looks suspiciously like "prepared to spring into lethal action at any moment, and also with self-polishing fur" mode from this distance.

What the brown one wants to know is exactly how their leashes got tangled up like this, and moreover, what the hell I'm going to do about it.

From this angle, it looks like they're covering each others' backs. But really, what's the little guy going to do if trouble comes in his direction? Pulling out a gun is probably his only option.

For your approval I present Patent No. 29483049657, the Canine Sundial.

Dogs 91-100

Chillin' outside one of my favorite brunch places in the Cole Valley is ... this fella. Half black, half white, half in the sun, half out. He's, like, totally a study in dualities or something. Whoa! WHOA!

Look at his leg. Rather than have you assume that he's just going to let fly with a stream of urine from this position, I should tell you that a few moments before this photo was taken, some random stranger on the street was rubbing his belly. Why do all dogs do that leg thing when we rub their bellies, anyway? What kind of weird-ass reflex is that?

I don't even know where to begin with this dude, so I'm not even going to try.

This guy's completely sweet-looking and fine -- it's funny how most of the Rottweilers I've met are -- but the tough-ass chain around his neck lets you know what the real deal is.

Many things could be noted about this little fella right here, but I would like to call attention to the tip of his tail. Isn't that awesome? You know it is.

He's got his water and he's got his reading material. Basically, there's nothing I've got that he could really want. Except maybe a biscuit. I've got some crushed airline cookies still in their wrappers. Would dogs want those?

Tied up to the door to one of those really cheesy bars down in Fisherman's Wharf, he longs only for escape, or for someone to pet him (I did).

I was only down in Fisherman's Wharf because that's the only place in the city to get In-n-Out Burger. Come on!





Seeing that bike lock there reminds me of a song:

I'm really sorry, Steven,
But your bicycle's been stolen ...
I meant her no harm when I
Left her unlocked outside the Orange Street Food Farm.
I was just running in,
Didn't think I'd be that long.
I came back, she was gone and
All that was there was some bored old dog,
Leashed up to the place where your bicycle had been.
I guess we'll never see poor Madeleine again.

- The Decemberists, "Apology Song"

Look at the front paws! For some reason those front paws are fascinating. Maybe because they make him look like he's wearing athletic socks. Clean ones.

Also, isn't this guy pretty compact? Looks like you could just scoop him up and walk off, cradling him in one arm.

DOG #100

You can tell he's excited, can't you?

Breaking the 100-dog mark was the start of the Dogblog Guest Page, which I'm still trying to work out how to do now that I've switched to Blogger. Stay tuned.

Far, far into the future, whenever it is they make a Textbook For How Life Was Back Then, they'll put this picture in there next to "Dog." He almost looks like a museum display, doesn't he?

"This is the head ... notice the little spots of color on the eyebrows there ... that's the leash ... and that's a lot of fur around his ruff that for some reason doesn't match the rest of him. No, I don't know what the deal was with that either."

His concentration on whatever's in front of him is almost eerie. I feel like I shouldn't have been able to get this close to take his picture without him at least acknowledging my presence.

Dogs 81-90

Allow me to introduce you people to Leo, Provisional King of the Castro (I have no idea where his owner lives, but I took this picture in the Castro, so there you have it).

The last dog I named king of a particular neighborhood also happened to be extremely fluffy. I sort of doubt there's a coincidence there.

Even the King gots to blink.

This fella seems to me like the kind of dog who's lived his whole life with a train-ridin' hobo. There's a kind of weariness to this pose, isn't there? Like if he could talk, he'd say, "Ain't nobody gonna move me away from my trash can, brother. Best just move along, now."

Then again, maybe he's just plain tired.

He's smilin' like he's got the Secret of Life in that little white container, but I looked in there, and it was just water.

I can't tell if this is a Bernese Mountain Dog or a St. Bernard, or if I'm totally off. But does it matter? Look at that face! Who's got Puppy Power? Who? Who?

This guy kept darting around yipping at people, and looking back, I wonder if it might have been possible to pick him up and place him gently inside one of those newspaper boxes you see behind him.

I think this fella expected me to untie him and take him someplace where he could get a biscuit. For some reason he looks like he deserves one, doesn't he?

Sometimes you'll be wandering around, and someone you're walking with will point out to you a thing that you can't possibly imagine living without having seen. This was one of those. Check 'em out! Or rather, look at them checking us out.

Another shot of the same miracle dogs, except only one of them seems to have bothered to keep track of me. I wonder what the other guy was looking at?

Little dog, little dog, tied to a store,
What's that worried look on your face for?
Maybe you just think that you've got too much fur?
I do not agree; you are totally absurd!

I'm not exactly sure what was up with this dude here. What I mean is I don't know what that thing on his face is for. It doesn't really look like a muzzle to me, not that he even needed it -- he was friendly! -- but what's it all about, then? I asked him, but couldn't get a straight answer.

Some alert readers have since told me that this type of leash is supposed to be better for dogs than your standard one -- having it loop around his muzzle like that provides control without you having to yank on his neck or something. Makes sense to me; I've literally never had to consider leash design in my life.

He may be stretching that leash out to its most taut, but there's a weird look of patience in his eyes that I don't see on many dogs. If you accidentally kill this guy's owner or mother or something, I'm washing my hands of you and advising you to change your name and move to another planet.

Dogs 71-80

"Shaggy and Scooby: THE METAL YEARS."

Tied up right outside Papalote, my favorite taqueria in the entire city,* and he knows he's missing out. Mostly it's in the eyes, and the fact that he kept giving me the finger through the window while I ate my burrito.

* It's on 24th and Valencia; they make this insane salsa.

That healthy happy face is code for "As soon as no one's looking, and I can figure out how to get this leash off, that freakin' basket is mine."

Actually, when I got closer, I became fairly certain that I'd seen this guy before (see the previous set), and he confirmed it by getting up again to come say hi. I didn't have any biscuits this time either, but I swore next time I'd have 'em.

Behold the Dogblog's first basset hound!

You can tell excitement simply courses through his veins.

(the slammin' techno soundtrack to this picture will kick in any minute now, I promise)

(sniff sniff) "Come on, I know there's an escape route here somewhere goddammit." (sniff) "Oh wait, I'm tied to a tree."

I think it's a combination of all those feet passing by plus the angle his head's at, but this fella has a total "What, you wanna piece'a me?" thing going on that cannot be denied.

Engineers at the Advanced Weaponeering department of the Pentagon were unavailable for comment on recent rumors that unauthorized tests for the Nap-Ray were being conducted in the Mission last weekend, but it doesn't matter what they say, because I have the evidence right here.

An alternate theory under development by me is that this guy collapsed under the weight of his own despair at being prevented from tasting the salsa at Papalote* by his own physiology. Somebody told me once that dogs don't actually have a sense of taste like we do, that they can only distinguish "good" from "bad." Doesn't that seem like kind of a ripoff to you? Then again, we can't take naps in the middle of the damn sidewalk, either.

* He's right outside the door, just like the dude second from the top of this page. In the previous picture, you can see the wooden standy-thing they put outside when they're open.

Captured in front of Dog-Eared Books* on the corner of 20th and Valencia.

* Ha!**

** Think about it.

"Can you help me out with this thing here? She went inside for another book on how to put rhinestones and studs on things, and I'm kind of afraid of what she'll try to put them on next when she runs out of room on my collar."

The foot underneath him kind of spoils it, but otherwise, doesn't it look like this guy's sort of "ready for launch"? Like if you untied that leash, he'd somehow spring right up off the ground at maybe a thirty-degree angle with a plume of white-hot flame and smoke coming out the back of him?

Or is that just me?

Perhaps the perfect way to execute a bank robbery would be to somehow have dogs do it.

Observe: The two on the left are obviously waiting for someone to make a crucial mistake. The brown dude's the lookout. It's foolproof, I tell you.

I can't prove it, but I think the two standing dogs were wagging their tails in unison. How great is that?

Dogs 61-70

Those of you who kept track of your Egyptian mythology may recall Anubis,* the god of the afterlife whose job it was to figure out if you were going to their version of heaven or hell. Well, he's back, but lucky for us, he's not really "into" that whole judging-the-dead thing for the time being. Yoga classes. You know.

* At least I think that was him.

This guy wants whoever tied him up to come back right now. Look at his feet, though! It's like he just walked through a paint store or something. Well, maybe just his back feet.

You're invited to conjure that mental image now. Go on! I SAID DO IT.

"Can't fuckin' b'lieve it, kick me outta there, will he? Wait'll he comes out, I'm'a kick his ass."

Is it just me, or are all poodles just surly? I've only met maybe one mellow poodle in my time, and I think he might've just been a very dark retriever with identity issues and access to a small but very speedy curling iron.

Considering he had no idea who I was, this guy was pretty damn happy to see me.

So was this smilin' fella. And people wonder why we like dogs?

He isn't looking up because he's busy pondering the inner workings of that leash reel sitting next to him, as though it contained the secret to his freedom.

Pretty morose-lookin', ain't he? To be fair, a moment before I snapped the picture, I had to break it to him that pro wrestling isn't actually real.

Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you Blue "Boo-Bear" Hibbs (sp?), longhaired Alaskan Malamute and undisputed king of the Mission. Within his fur he hides at least seven other lesser dogs.

I actually did sit for a while with him and got to talk to the person walking him, which is the only reason I know his name. Boo-Bear has some ideas for us that I think we need to pay attention to, but it's not my place to say what they are. Mostly they involve petting the top of his head, and also behind the ears. It seems like a pretty reasonable platform to me.

Your Majesty, the people. The people, His Majesty.

You're welcome.

I got down for a closer look, and this old dude just came right up and said hi. It was at this point that it occurred to me that I needed to start carrying around biscuits.

At this distance, this guy looks pretty normal for a spaniel, right? Or maybe a spaniel mix? I'm not even close to being an expert in dog breeds. I know for damn sure he's no Russian bear hound, though.

But check out what happens when you get closer and have a look at them bloodshot eyes.

On second thought, maybe he is part Russian.

"In Russia, wodka used for currency. Also to replace aqueous humour in eyeballs. Side effects. Is medical shortcut, you know how goes. Spare rubles for fireplace stuffing?"

Dogs 51-60

This fella just wants to know what that noise is. This was the only decent picture I could get of him, as his head kept moving. Small dogs; what can I say?

Actually, as I look at this photo, I notice the way the fur on his legs is arranged kind of makes them appear oddly broken, or at least crooked. Or is that just me?

I'm not totally convinced this specimen is a dog at all, as opposed to some kind of alien robot masquerading as one, and poorly at that. There's too much sad intelligence in that face. Also, what's with the single black spot right in the middle of his back? That's where the alien power source gets plugged in.

THE BLACK ONE: "Hey Lou, you think this guy here's doin' somethin' funny with that camera?"

THE TAN ONE: "I don't know what you're talkin' 'bout, Marty, 'cause I see somethin' fuckin' scary comin' up the road toward us here."

This fella wanted me to untie him and take him into the restaurant with me so bad. I don't know, though; in this picture he looks like he might be part seal. Or skunk.

"Hey, where all you bitches at? It's time to get our game on! I got the ball right here! Where you at? Pansies."

I kind of envy dogs' ability to convert their bone structure into Jello when they get really tired. Doesn't it seem like that'd be more relaxing than anything you could think of? The world is this guy's mattress.

Some dogs just don't need a caption.

This guy has kind of a neurotic look to him, like he's afraid the bike might suddenly come to life and try to run him over. What could he do about it if it did? That's what I thought.

Welsh Corgi! Nothing more need be said! Look at his little, little legs! Talk about a dog you want to scoop up and run away with, as far and as fast as you can.


It seemed kind of sad to me to let this guy out onto the porch so he could see and smell all the people and birds and stuff walk by, but at the same time cage him so he couldn't run after any of 'em. To be fair, he did seem pretty content to just sit there and watch me take this picture.

Dogs 41 - 50

At this place, you can take your dog inside with you when you come in to buy yourself a pastry. Fat lot of good that does him, too.

Funfact: This picture was also taken in Denver, but it appears out of order because I forgot it was on my HD. That's the last one, though.

There's a sort of dignified sad look to this guy's face, mostly because of that fur on his head that approximates eyebrows, and maybe the position of his ears. I would've hugged him if I hadn't been on my way somewhere, and also the owner was probably nearby and would've thought I was weird.

Included for scale with this picture of the Most Pathetic Chihuahua-Lookin'-Dog Ever is the parking meter he was tied to. It's sort of like hitching your single-engine dinghy to a skyscraper.

I never said I was the master of simile, now did I?

Look at him! He's all, "Wait, where are you going? What did you just tie me to? Is this some kind of dimensional portal? It is, isn't it?"

"All right, you can go, but if your ass isn't back here in five minutes, I'm going back through the portal to the universe we came from. That's right, the one that looks and smells suspiciously like this one I'm in now, but it's the universe where you give me a biscuit sometimes for no reason at all."

One morning I'm at a stoplight and this pulls up next to me. The only thought in this dog's tiny brain is that of escape from the music that's playing on the radio. My camera doesn't have a zoom, so it doesn't quite capture the desperation in his eyes, but trust me, it was there.

Sitting placidly outside some kind of shoe shop in the upper Haight is the dog with the single weirdest coat I've ever seen. What is he, part bobcat or something? Who said genetic engineering was a pipe-dream? Look at him!

I think it may be physically impossible to get a dignified photo of an Irish setter. They just don't let you do it. Catching this guy in mid-lick makes him look kind of pensive at least, don't you think? Like he's concentrating really hard on the task at hand?

In direct contrast to the previous picture, this has got to be one of the most dignified dogs I've ever seen. Fuck, he's practically the canine equivalent of Bruce Wayne. Even with a bandanna on, he pulls this off.

"Are you my mommy?" That's what this look says.

Note the following things:
  1. Not only are his eyes two different colors, his left eye itself is two colors. And it wasn't some kind of retinal rupture or something; the iris was actually half blue, half brown.

  2. This is another one of those shaggy/soft-type dogs I really wanted to pet, but I decided against it at the last minute.

Another in-store dog. I like how his wagging tail is just a blur. This was a happy dog.

Not at all like the sanctimonious, bowel-obstructed employee wearing a stupid hat who came up to me just after this picture was taken and told me pictures weren't allowed in the store. I forget the name of the place -- it actually went out of business since I took this photo. Is that some form of karma? Given that the store was selling crystals and incense and the like, I can only guess that their etheric protection turned out to be inadequate. Or maybe they just shouldn't have been hiring assholes to work there.

Dogs 30-40

This guy had kind of a crazed look in his eyes, like maybe he thought if he could take it by surprise, he'd be able to snap the leash and run run run for freedom!

That's my car in the background, by the way, with the Radiohead bear sticker on the door. The other door has one just like it.

Seriously, look at them eyes. What do they say to you besides "Shouldn't have done the brown acid"?

Taken on a Sunday at the Isotope on Noriega & 24th, San Francisco's finest comic shop. Not that he knew it, heh.

I don't know what it is with me and les Bichon Frises. This one was on the lawn as I was driving out someplace Tuesday night, barking up a storm at me and my car. I was just driving.


Translation: "You gotta help me drive out the demon living in my skull. For serious."

Back at the Isotope on Wednesday night. This is my first official dachshund picture, for anyone keeping track. Lord only knows what he's looking for.

The feet you see there belong to Joe Casey, one seriously fucking talented writer and damn nice guy. He's not up there 'cause he's scared of the dog; that's a whole different story, m'friend.

By the way, take a look at all the mixers and barware inside that glass counter and tell me you know a comic shop that's better than this one. You can try, but you will not be successful.

Sometimes when you're tired enough to sleep in the back of a truck like this, you don't care that the rim of the window doesn't make a particularly great pillow.

You can kind of make out the ears of another dog to his right, but that one never showed his face.

These two I ran into outside a Starbucks, but they were too busy chewing on their bones to pay me much attention. There's something great about the total concentration dogs have when they're chewing on bones, isn't there? "Harf harf hnum, this thing's goin' down."

I have to confess to you guys that this picture and the one preceding it were actually taken in Denver, breaking the whole San Francisco thing, but I just couldn't resist.

Hands-down the weariest-looking dog I've ever seen in my life. You can just tell there's not even any ATP left in his cells to carry out basic biological processes. His owner probably had to put him in a wheelbarrow and trundle him home to a water bowl full of Gatorade and Red Bull.

"If she'd get off that cell phone long enough to glance in my direction, she could tell it's about time I got my shit on. Then again, if I take off running fast enough, I can jerk the leash out from under that leg and maybe topple the chair over."

As I look at it now, I realize this may be the only Dogblog picture I ever took with a person -- probably the owner -- still in the frame. What this tells you is that I make my own rules and cannot be stopped.

This guy was pretty happy-looking, considering he's tied to a parking meter dressed up as a giant candy cane. I love it when dogs like this do the one-ear-up, one-ear-down thing.

Another one of those dogs who wasn't physically tied down, but clearly had no real reason to get up and walk away either. He's staring intently into the door of a restaurant in the Marina. Either his beloved owner was in there, or he'd found himself a hapless yuppie child to steal away and raise in the wilderness, and was just biding his time.

I think this one's only feigning nonchalance about those babies being so close, while inside he's plotting how to steal that multicolored thing hanging off the stroller. What the hell is that?

My mistake, it's the Doggy Nostradamus. Look at that spooky eye. "Gaze with me into the future, yon mortal stranger." Except look at how he's sitting. Seems kind of undignified for a prophet of doom, don't it?

(I think the other eye's just covered by fur, but still.)

Dogs 21-29

A sort of part-dingo-lookin' dog, just chillaxin' on the corner on a Saturday night.

(Actually I think it was Tuesday)

This guy looks like one of those really old blues musicians who's had a horrible life. Like his name might be "Garbage Pail Texas" or "Hobotown Mike" or "Steamin' Pile Willie" or something.

Look at all the construction-type stuff around him! Was he thinking, "Man, if I only had thumbs, I could so build a badass half pipe."

I count four completely ass-kicking dogs in the back of this truck. The next time you think about "Rollin' wit' your homies," consider how much better it would be if your homies were these guys instead of some lame "crew" that wears stupid shirts and have begun compiling CDs of the greatest hits of Ludacris.

On my way into the Presidio Post Office one morning, I saw these. I'll admit right here that Bichon Frise are just about the only small dogs I have any patience for. I've known at least one great Frise in my time (shout out to Shadow, holdin' it down in Philly), and they are a stand-up breed.

Heh; look at 'em!

"Will you come out already? He's getting that look again."

I just wanted to point out that this guy's got the reflection thing going in both eyes, but they're each of a slightly different color. He's like the Cowboy Bebop's Spike, except in dog form, and not an anime character.

Also, he probably doesn't know jeet kune do.

I didn't say it was a good comparison, now did I?

I know what you're thinking, because I'm thinking it too: How much better is it to have a dog check out what's in your bag on the street than one of the approximately sixty-hundred billion hobo dudes on the streets of the Mission?

Answer: A lot better.

What he's contemplating here is exactly how much more extra leash would be needed in order for him to reach the scooter behind him, hotwire the hell out of it, and drive it off to a better life doing poster ads that hang in stores like Express for Men or whatever the hell it's called, back when it used to be Structure.

These next three pictures I put up because I couldn't choose just one.

This dog used to hang out in a store on Valencia St. every now and then. She was basically the best in-store dog ever.

Best. In-store. Dog. EVER.

That thing about dogs always sniffing each other's asses as a way of saying "hello" has been stand-up comedian and cartoon fodder for the past seven thousand millenia.

That said, it seems to come from somewhere. I do like how the black dog seems sort of puzzled anyway, though.

And now he's like "Shit, they've got me surrounded. Do I owe these guys money? Do I even know them?"

Apparently the streets are rough in the Cole Valley on a weekend night.

Dogs 11-20

Two awesome dogs, just hangin' out. I love the big furry ones who don't give a damn. Fuckin' check 'em out! Awesome.

Editor's note: There are times when it seems like the word "awesome" is over-used on the internet. However, there are also times when it applies perfectly. This is one of them. Thank you.

Now they're all like, "Heyheyheylook, he's got bacon."

I'll confess right here and now that I don't have any use for pugs. They're not cute. They ogly. Thas right.

"What am I doing here? I'm not tied to anything. How did I get here? Did someone poop me out?"

These two were waiting most intently for their owner to come out of the coffeeshop on Dolores and 18th, let me tell you.

"I'm telling you, she's in there. We saw her go in there. We just stand right here, like this, and that'll make sure she comes out again. That's the only way. Look, just do it, OK?"

Check it out! Two dogs, meetin' in the street. And look: Old English sheepdog! WORD UP. I mean what, did you not see those "Shaggy Dog" movies that Disney made like a thousand years ago when we were kids? What are you, a terrorist?

This may be my favorite picture. He's looking at me like, "What?" while his buddy sleeps over behind the pole thing.

I wanted to run over and bury my face in his fur while going "Bblblblbblbllbllblb," but I didn't know how well that'd be received. So I didn't.

I don't care what you say, these three are a gang. They are a posse. Best slide on by, people. Slide on by.

Another dude with the sad eyes.

"Contrary to what you might think, this tree does not provide much protection from the rain."

Look at this guy! He's happy he's got shotgun, he's happy he's got ventilation, he's happy to be looking at me. He's just happy to be alive, I think. How fucking great is that?

You know this one's about to test his Theory of Dog Urine Corrosion on Mercedes Tires. The cause of science marches ever onward.

He looks like he has something to discuss.

"While you were in there, I took a sniff at what's in that yellow bag, and uh, I think we need to have a talk. Like maybe right now, before we go anywhere else."

Dogs 1 - 10

This was the first one, I think. He just looks so sleepy. I bet his owner found him five minutes later with his head between his paws, dead to the world.

Looks like one of them demon dogs. One of them three-legged fag demon dogs! The leg fell off because he licks himself at night! Fred Phelps told me so!

OK, I know the leg's only folded under the rest of his body. What can I say, I like making jokes about dog masturbation. Don't you?

I think the white one is checking the guy to see if he can reach his wallet.

"OK, Fluffers, you start barking at him, and when he turns his head, I'll piss on his shoe while Mr. Bogie-Bogie takes his cash. This time tomorrow, we'll be on the beach in Rio de fucking Janeiro!"

And now he's looking at me like I'm the next target. Kind of looks like his pal behind him is checking out his butt, though.

Incidentally, I love that haircut they give to Airedales on their legs where it looks like they don't have any paws, just a long furry stump.

This happenin' fella was waiting for somebody very patiently right outside the exit door to the Cala (an overpriced grocery chain). Whenever someone would walk out, he just sat there, not taking the opportunity to run in. I admired that.

This guy had really mournful eyes. He was tied to a pole in the upper Haight; I theorize that this had something to do with it.

"If I have to see another white kid in a Slipknot t-shirt with ratty-ass dreads and bad piercings in his chin go by again, I'm going to rip this pole out of the concrete with my teeth and take out a city bus."

I love how this one's not tied to anything at all, but clearly has nowhere better to go. It's this kind of loyalty that makes me love dogs.

The view from inside the store.

"Come out already. I can hear squirrels. Squirrels, I tell you."

Fire hydrant doing double duty as dog-parking stanchion and scooter storage. I wonder, though, if the kid who left the scooter is also in charge of the dog, and was using the dog to provide motive power. Maybe that's why the dog's like, "Is he gone?"

This dog, of course, has the opposite problem.

"Where my ride at?"

This poor guy not only has a bandanna tied around his neck, but he's hooked to a Wall Street Journal stand. Is his name Jake? Is his owner driving her kid Tyler to soccer practice? Buying a venti soy latte? You decide.

This one has a peculiarly guilty look on his face. Like he's the one who put the sign on the parking meter. (I don't even know what it says.)