And no, I’m not talking about the fact that he pooped on Junior’s backpack this morning.
See, when it’s my turn to take him outside, I recreate scenes from various movies and television shows. I call the dog Scooby, Benji, Lassie, or Toto, depending on what I’m recreating. And sometimes when he’s sniffing I’ll ask if he’s found the scent of the murderer. You know, cause he’s obviously part bloodhound. He may be just a little too big to carry in a basket.
Hey, it amuses me.
And if we *happen* to save a little boy trapped in a well, won’t you be all “oh, sorry we mocked you and Lassie there.” Uh huh.
