Because I am perpetually a day late and a dollar short, I just today realized that yesterday was apparently National Dog Day. Now, before you start wagging any fingers at me for neglecting this poor dog, I’m going to be 100% honest with you: based on the attention-levels and treats consumed by Mr. Smoky, basically every day is National Dog Day around la Casa de Puddin.
Seen here about to issue a vurry serius vocal rebuke to a pair of nefarious-looking sidewalk-goers, I was glad to be able to get a shot of Smoky I’m frame with my Belated National Dog Day Socks, which I, believe it or not, did not pick out this morning with any relevant intentions.
Apparently my subconscious is now totally controlled by Instagram, because I did see a more than average number of pet pooch pics yesterday.
Come to think of it, that probably also explains why I always want pizza. Because if you can count on anything for certain in our strange modern world, it’s that someone just posted pizza to your feed.