/FICTOGRAPHY/ def. — The intersection of photography (submitted by readers) and fiction (written by me!).
This week’s selected photograph comes from my college roommate, former colleague, and dearest friend Elizabeth Johnson. She sent me this picture of a dog named Captain, and I simply couldn’t resist. I needed a little break from the romantic stuff and will save next week’s post for some Valentine love. For now, Elizabeth’s photo of this dog is so cute, I couldn’t help but make him a little snarky.
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Fictography #6 — Captain’s Crap
Honestly, don’t take pity on me. I’ve been fine and I’ll be fine. It’s just that sometimes I want to mope around. They think I’m a lazy dog, but I’m really just moping.
Why? Because I’m sick and tired.
Do you have any freakin’ idea how difficult it is to live in a house where my lovely owner is a cook? And do you have any idea how often my owner likes to cook? Every night. She brings in these bags from the car full of stuff…fresh from the market. She turns on the stove, and then she cooks. The smells go into the air, and my nose—my amazing nose that can hunt down animals and other dogs and other scents—is mistreated by my owner and the aromas she creates. Why? Because I don’t get to eat the food she makes. I’m never allowed to eat the food she makes, and it sucks.
It totally sucks. It’s torture.
Imagine my surprise when the first time she made this casserole that smelled heavenly, and I trot into the kitchen, she puts a bowl of dried up crap in a bowl that smells awful and I’m expected to eat it. I don’t get one bite of the casserole. This is how it goes…every night, every morning. It’s the same stuff over and over. How would you like it?
How would you like it?
It’s no wonder I wear the expression I do on my on face. You’d mope too. You’d be depressed too. You’d resort to putting your head on the carpet at 2:51 in the afternoon.
It’s not a dog-eat-dog world. It’s a dog-eats-crap world. All I get to eat is crap that tastes like cardboard that comes out of a huge bag that smells bad.
I hear these people talking about how chicken sometimes tastes like rubber.
I’d give anything to eat rubber chicken.
I’d give anything to eat anything resembling something that doesn’t come out of a bag.
When did people decide it was healthy for a dog to eat bagged food? How did we animals survive for centuries without it?
Seriously, if you love your dog, give him some table food now and then. And I don’t mean those things that look like beef jerky.
In my latest issue of Modern Dog, it clearly delineates what is acceptable for dogs. I’ve read it. I know.
So, if you don’t want your dog to have a dog day afternoon or to just look dog tired, listen up.
Captain has spoken.