Hi. My name's Hobie. I'm a 110 pound Landseer Newfoundland (that means I have white spots).
I'm exhausted. I had a long day.
This morning my belly looked like this. I was a tangled mess.
My paws looked like Grinch feet.
I smelled. Bad.
My legs were full of slush, leaves, and my own slobber.
I need to be brushed 5 times a day, at least. But who has the time?
There is a not a brush big enough in the world to keep my chest clean. I can't help slobbering in it. It's all gravity's fault. My mom can't even find my collar under there.
And all that hair in the pads of my paws freezes in the winter and turns into mini-snowballs inside my paws. It doesn't feel good so I lick them to thaw. And that just makes me drool more.
I thought I was going for a ride in the car. I didn't know my mom was taking me here. Classy, eh?
I don't think I smell that bad, do you? Who cares if I'm having a bad hair day? My dad doesn't. He always thinks I'm pretty.
It wasn't so bad. Brenda was awfully nice. And look how nice I look!
Check out my sit skills. I was such a good dog that Brenda gave me a treat. Or eight. What can I say, my droopy red eye gets people every time.
And then another treat. She even pet me now that I don't smell bad.
Please notice the lack of slobber wrapped around my nose. Also notice the lack of slobber in the neck/chest area. Hmmmm, I'm pretty sure my collar is under here somewhere.
No Grinch here. I don't know what you're talking about.
No more snow balls in my toes!
God, I love a good mani pedi. Someone should remind my mom that she needs one too.
Sniff, sniff. I smell damn good. And my ears don't itch. And I won't need to be brushed until after dinner, minimum. Relaxxxxx. Put your feet up, have a glass of wine.
Oh yeah, I've got this pimp Christmas bow. Don't be jealous.
Excuse me. Don't forget about me. Where's my mani pedi? When's my field trip? I want a bow.
No field trip? No bow? Oh man.
Oh well. Where's my ball?