Dogs 30-40

This guy had kind of a crazed look in his eyes, like maybe he thought if he could take it by surprise, he'd be able to snap the leash and run run run for freedom!

That's my car in the background, by the way, with the Radiohead bear sticker on the door. The other door has one just like it.


Seriously, look at them eyes. What do they say to you besides "Shouldn't have done the brown acid"?


Taken on a Sunday at the Isotope on Noriega & 24th, San Francisco's finest comic shop. Not that he knew it, heh.


I don't know what it is with me and les Bichon Frises. This one was on the lawn as I was driving out someplace Tuesday night, barking up a storm at me and my car. I was just driving.

BARK BARK BARK

Translation: "You gotta help me drive out the demon living in my skull. For serious."


Back at the Isotope on Wednesday night. This is my first official dachshund picture, for anyone keeping track. Lord only knows what he's looking for.

The feet you see there belong to Joe Casey, one seriously fucking talented writer and damn nice guy. He's not up there 'cause he's scared of the dog; that's a whole different story, m'friend.

By the way, take a look at all the mixers and barware inside that glass counter and tell me you know a comic shop that's better than this one. You can try, but you will not be successful.


Sometimes when you're tired enough to sleep in the back of a truck like this, you don't care that the rim of the window doesn't make a particularly great pillow.

You can kind of make out the ears of another dog to his right, but that one never showed his face.


These two I ran into outside a Starbucks, but they were too busy chewing on their bones to pay me much attention. There's something great about the total concentration dogs have when they're chewing on bones, isn't there? "Harf harf hnum, this thing's goin' down."

I have to confess to you guys that this picture and the one preceding it were actually taken in Denver, breaking the whole San Francisco thing, but I just couldn't resist.


Hands-down the weariest-looking dog I've ever seen in my life. You can just tell there's not even any ATP left in his cells to carry out basic biological processes. His owner probably had to put him in a wheelbarrow and trundle him home to a water bowl full of Gatorade and Red Bull.


"If she'd get off that cell phone long enough to glance in my direction, she could tell it's about time I got my shit on. Then again, if I take off running fast enough, I can jerk the leash out from under that leg and maybe topple the chair over."

As I look at it now, I realize this may be the only Dogblog picture I ever took with a person -- probably the owner -- still in the frame. What this tells you is that I make my own rules and cannot be stopped.


This guy was pretty happy-looking, considering he's tied to a parking meter dressed up as a giant candy cane. I love it when dogs like this do the one-ear-up, one-ear-down thing.


Another one of those dogs who wasn't physically tied down, but clearly had no real reason to get up and walk away either. He's staring intently into the door of a restaurant in the Marina. Either his beloved owner was in there, or he'd found himself a hapless yuppie child to steal away and raise in the wilderness, and was just biding his time.


I think this one's only feigning nonchalance about those babies being so close, while inside he's plotting how to steal that multicolored thing hanging off the stroller. What the hell is that?


My mistake, it's the Doggy Nostradamus. Look at that spooky eye. "Gaze with me into the future, yon mortal stranger." Except look at how he's sitting. Seems kind of undignified for a prophet of doom, don't it?

(I think the other eye's just covered by fur, but still.)