My long time imaginary blog friend The Mighty Favog has requested lots and lots of Gus. Now, I realize that Gus doesn't get nearly the action that he used to around here, but he is no less present than ever. Tonight, in fact, I had to call the emergency vet to confirm that Craisins are not poisonous as compared to their cousin Raisins. (They are not.)
So, I bring you Gus. Lots and lots of Gus. Also, what I imagine that he is saying in each shot:
"These kids. Hooligans. Common street trash. Can't appreciate a dog's right to rest. All the poking and the prodding. Give a dog a break. I'm exhausted."
"Something good has got to come my way. I'm not moving from this spot. Table scraps or excrement. I've got to get something here."
"Vet?! What vet? Whatchoo mean, vet? Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Willis?"
"Ride in the car? What? Um, YES PLEASE!"
"Again? Seriously? You're as bad as they are."
"Maybe they won't recognize me...."