Dog Talk

So the new dog has decided, after apparently watching reruns of Brian on The Family Guy all day while I’m at work, that he can talk if he just tries hard enough and keep practicing. This is the dog that we saved from the pound primarily because he was the only one not barking hysterically or whining or making other obnoxious dog-terror noises. He was just scared and quiet. So we took him home. And he’s been trying to talk ever since.

He doesn’t shut up often. There is a constant dialogue the entire time he’s getting walked, as he comments on every single puddle of pee or strange dog poo on the route, often taking an attitude much like mine “what in the F**k did you eat, dude?” He complains loudly every morning when I come downstairs because he’s waiting for his bowl of cereal with milk for breakfast and I’m usually running a few minutes late. He occasionally just walks over and starts talking to me, to tell me something important I’m sure, though I’m not always sure what it is.

The old dog has always talked, but he’s really perfected it in his older years. He’s a reincarnated Buddhist monk, so he just makes “Ohm” noises when he’s happy, varying the tone and pitch according to how specifically Zen he’s feeling at any given moment.

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