Yesterday was my big man’s 11th birthday. I can hardly believe my Nembutal has gotten that old. And, like any neglectful dog mother, I forgot to make him wear a silly hat. I also let his big day pass with little fanfare… just new good for him food, which my junkfood-loving dog is not terribly happy with just yet. If he could speak English, I’m sure he’d say the only reason he ate it at all is because he’s starving. to. death. and we never feed him. (totally not true–the boys are on a diet and for the first times in their lives, a feeding schedule)
This is the saddest looking dog I have ever known, especially in front of the camera.
I mean, really. C’mon. Would it kill him to at least look at the camera? (possibly. I’m of the firm opinion that he does little to encourage me) You’d think I was in the business of dog torture to look at him. And I’m not–he should know after 11 years that I’m going to take the damn picture whether he wants me to or not, and if he would just cooperate, I would be done quicker.
Gastography 