Sunday, November 19, 2017

The Last Doge On The Left

We've been feeding the doge treats off Katie's cousin Ryan's shoe, in an effort to get her to calm the hell down whenever he's in the house. We figured it would get her to associate his smell with treats, but that's not really working, although she seems to appreciate the whole eating a lot of treats part of our plan. She still barks, growls, and carries on like he's some kind of home invader, intent on killing us all and making us into lampshades, and being the charming, affable guy he is, he finds it personally offensive that any creature would have the poor taste to dislike him.

When he goes on the doge's walk with us, hoping to get her used to his presence, she twists around every few seconds to look behind her at him, as if he's the killer in the horror movie, gaining every moment on the heroine as she stumbles in terror through the forest.
One year ago: Boogie. Down.
Two years ago: Good Intentions
Three years ago: Attention Must Be Paid
Four years ago: Picky

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