Me: Good morning, Samson. How are you this morning?
Samson: Woof, woof!
Me: You are smiling, must mean you're fine.
Samson: Woof!
Me: You're looking kind of dirty. I've asked Mark, the nice helper man, to come and help me brush you.
Samson: Woof, woof, woof, great!
Me: Why do you look like that now? Ears back and everything?
Samson: Woof, woooooof, woooooooof, hungry!
Me: You're always hungry and now you're so fat, you're going on a diet.
Samson: Woooooooooooooooof! Oh, no, I'm just fattening up for the winter. I'm nowhere near as fat as those big bears you had pictures of. Nowhere near!
Me: But they don't eat anything until spring. That's why they have to get so fat. They hibernate, go into a den and sort of sleep until spring.
Samson: Woof, I mostly sleep all day long too. Wooofhy, because someone I know is too busy to take me for my long walks.
Me: I'm sorry about that, but someone you know can't walk very well right now. And someone you know feeds you three meals a day.
Samson: I'd be thinner if I walked more.
Me: True. -------- And ate less!
Samson: Woooooooooooe is me......
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Samson is the barker in the family and not as well versed in English as Faith.
But he's my snuggle dog, my Fluffmonster (as Theresa in Texas, who's no longer blogging, so appropriately named him, years ago) and the sweetest, kindest old dog, I've ever known.
