But Wegman has a studio, and cooperative Weimeraners.
All I have is a small kitchen. And a blue chair.
The first shots didn’t go so well. Nobody was impressed that King Woo got to be the one to sit on the chair, and that includes Woo … because he knows they will overthrow him sooner or later for this.
That was boring, and potentially threatening for Wootie. So I decided to try some individual shots.
Can’t you see Tweed’s self esteem draining away? It’s like there should be a thought bubble over his head that says “That’s it. It’s all over. I have no credibility left. I have seen the rest of my life, and it is bleak — nay, black. BLACK LIKE THE CAVERNOUS ABYSS WHERE ONCE RESIDED THE FOOD LADY’S SOUL!!”
“I won’t stand for this!”
(ha ha. yes he will)
I think a close-up of his psychological pain is required
“I remember when I used to run free on the seashore, and make Mad Teeth ™ at Wootie, and life was good…”
“…Now I am reduced to a prop. Can you help me blog reader? HELP ME. For the love of doG, help me.”
As for Mr. Woo – don’t even ask. It wasn’t pretty.
“You suck. Die.”
“No. Seriously. Die.”
So like any good parent, I busted out the bribery.
Cookie time.
“Ohhai…isthatacookieinyourhand?”
“I’d like that cookie! Me me mememememe!”
*snerf*snerf*snerf*
Tweed’s whole attitude changed! Suddenly he was auditioning for a major role in a blockbuster movie, and not thinking about taking mum’s entire bottle of sleeping pills and calling it a life.
“Broken paw? I can do broken paw, sure! No problem!”
“What’s that? Wash your dishes over here? I can do that too!”
*groan*moan*barkscream*
COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOKIEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Alright. I will put them out of their misery.
This is what a tossed cookie sees on the way down:
This is what the centrifugal force of a tossed cookie does to your dog’s face:
And this what it looks like when your dog is not smart enough to catch a tossed cookie:
Donut says:
“I’m a cat. And I do not approve of these shenanigans.”
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