Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Dogs 429-433

Welcome to the post where all the dogs have made-up names for no reason

Ronaldo here wants everyone to know that if you're going to lock him to something that's got wheels, at least have the god damn decency to give him a fucking helmet to go with it, one with a daisy on one side and a loaded surface-to-air missile launcher taped to the other.

It might be weird to announce that you want to pet a dog on the chest instead of anywhere else first, but Taylor doesn't mind because, well, nothing bothers him. Ever.

You can try to build a bicycle out of garden hoses and spare trombone parts and try to pretend they'll stick together all you want, but dogs will know what you're up to, and they will distance themselves. Samson's not going to acknowledge it when this thing collapses into a rubbery heap. Not even going to look over.

Grace. Honey. People want to get the news, not be the news. Relax. Quit compensating for the fact that you basically have a burglar mask tattooed on your face.

At the end of the day, somebody gets to untie that leash and take Oswald home with them, and you don't. Deal with this however you want, but the city called to say they won't be so understanding about burning the whole place down again.