Yes--it's a devil dog. He's finally expressing how he feels when a few months ago, I made him do his imitation of Donald Trump complete with a combover.
No comment, except: I thought you loved me!
My eyes tell the story: It's 1932 and I just spent a long day in the soup lines. Brother, can you spare a dime--or a Milkbone?
You dare dress me up as a hippie? What do you think this is--Woodstock. Dogs don't give the Bronx cheer--but this is my version of it. I stick my tongue out at you.
Arggh! I am not sure what this costume even is! I show my hot distaste for it by yelling.
I do believe this tiny, little sombrero makes my nose look bigger.
Maybe if I look at the floor and imagine a huge, hot meaty burrito--all of this Halloween nightmare will go away.
I feel like I am caught in a time warp. The Rocky Horror Show. Perhaps if I do a jump to the left, I can escape these humans.
Darn it. This is getting ridiculous. See that collie in the background. I'm going to telepathically send a message to the humans that he should be next. But the collie is really a big ninny when it comes to getting into costume. I sit here patiently and put up with it, while killing them softly with my eyes.
Heh! Heh! You should have ran when you had the chance silly Collie. And yes, that witch hat does make your nose look bigger too.
Humans. Sigh.
There was only one way to distract the humans from dressing us up. I donned my specs, sat in the easy chair and read them a story about how dogs love everything about being with humans (from eating their delicious food, sleeping in bed and going for car rides) EXCEPT putting on clothes.
