Dogs 262-267

The thing that makes this picture for me isn't just the flying ears on this captain, it's the bird I managed to catch in the opposite corner: "Nice try, dude. Nice try."


This little guy was fine with not being on a leash, but I don't think he grasped the concept of "people going inside stores." While I was trying to take his picture, he kept pacing back and forth over a twelve-foot stretch of cement and pausing. "Where'd they go. They were right here. They were right here. What the fuck just happened."


See what I mean.


"Uh, so, I was just. I was just wondering if you'd seen any, uh. I was going to -- I -- uh. Did you, uh. Hello? I ... I like your Zagat sign. I just, uh. That's all, I guess. Sor -- sorry to bother you."


I drove behind this car with these two absolute champions in the back for at least a mile, and not once did they ever look in separate directions.


This is what it looks like when you pull up alongside two of the best pals you'll ever see. You'll know because it'll make you want to climb into the back of the truck right then and there and hug 'em both at the same time around their necks and maybe rub their furry heads.


It's not often that you get to see a guy and his evil-parallel-universe counterpart right next each other, much less tied to the same thing. Which one's the evil one, though? You might be surprised. Or not.


Not exactly a coiled spring ready to strike. If this were a military movie, he'd be the one they call "Moose" who talks kind of slow and ends up carrying the wounded commander out of the fierce climactic battle on his back.