Conversations with dogs.

Conversations with dogs originally appeared as a guest post on the Chowderhead, a site that, as far as I can tell, is no longer published publicly. I found the original copy in a drafts folder and I liked it so much I wanted to resurrect it.

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“I wish you could talk, Fido.”

You hear it all the time in the movies. Some stupid little kid crying in his room because he got his ass kicked at school for being a stupid little kid. His trusty dog is there to tongue away his stupid little tears.

“If you could talk, you’d know what to say. You’d know what to do!”

You think so, kid?

You really think Fido would know exactly what to say to make you feel better? I mean, dogs are smart, don’t get me wrong. I’m a dog-person. I have two. But I would never want my four-legged assholes to talk back.

They’ve seen too much.
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Sniff sniff sniff.

I love Florida.

It’s a truly magical place filled with the nation’s geriatrics, more New Englanders than there are in the actual New England area, serial killers, jacked-up mosquitoes, and schizophrenic summertime weather.

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