Dogs 177-183

"The release mechanism is around here somewhere. I'm close, I'm close, I can smell it. Goddamn."


This might've been the happiest dog in the Marina. Usually I reserve that assumption for golden retrievers, but you should've seen him wag that tail. Maybe he was just having a good day, or maybe he knew his people were inside the restaurant saving him bacon for later.


Maybe this one's part cat. Look at that pose. All predatory, watchful. Patient. You can't fool me, I've seen nature shows.


He stood like that basically the entire time, as if he thought the parking meter was going to give any second and he could go right into the Pottery Barn and grab himself a shiny bronze throw pillow for his goosedown-stuffed doggy bed. I know they make those. That SkyMall catalogue is full of weird, weird shit.


Possibly the greatest puppy I have ever seen aside from my own dog when he was little. There is absolutely no part of this dog that's not completely on, right down to the look on his face. That is a little dude who's got things handled. Damn. Dammit.


Another one of those moments happened in the Mission where I had to check and make sure I was actually seeing what my eyes were feeding my brain. Look at these two amazing guys just sitting there. In the upper right corner, a slightly closer look at one of their extremely boss collars, proof of their total and unquestioned mastery over the entire city of San Francisco.


What's up, dogs. What is up.


As seen from inside the wing place on Valencia & 17th: These fellas. I'm pretty sure the small one is in charge. Look at the way he sits. "They've got two more minutes to bring the meat out here, and then we're leaving. That's the plan. Don't screw it up this time."

Question: Is anyone out there a publisher or a book agent, or do you know one? If you are or do, hit me up at dogblogSF(at)gmail(dot)com; I have an idea I'd like to bounce off you.