2015-06: August and September

August 2

Salvador: You know that meme with the cat with the sad eyes that says, “I made you a cookie but I eated it?”
Me: Yeah. Sure.
Salvador: I grilled you a steak.
Me: Yeah?
Salvador: <…>
Me: I’m not going to see any steak, am I?
Salvador: <…>
Me: Sal?
Salvador: <…>
Me: you know, Sal,those “sad eyes” of yours would be much more convincing if you could stop giggling.

August 2

Salvador: I’ve got another one of my brilliant ideas. I’m going to create a computer for that tragically undeserved market… Dogs.
Me: I’m not sure that’s really a market, Sal.
Salvador: Of course it’s not. Yet. But once Microsniffed Woofdows explodes on the scene, it will be.
Me: Microsniffed Woofdows? You’re really reaching there, Sal.
Salvador: You’ll control it with a device called the Cat. It does different things depending on how hard you bite it.
Me: I see.
Salvador: I’m going to give you the opportunity to invest now and get in on the ground floor.
Me: No thanks.
Salvador: You know who once said that to Bill Gates?
Me: Who?
Salvador: HOW WOULD I KNOW?! It’s not like anyone has any reason to remember him. You don’t want to end up like that.
Me: I’ll take my chances.
Salvador: Just remember… It’s better to regret something you have done than to regret something you haven’t done.
Me: Still not interested.
Salvador: Just bite the Cat. You know you want to.

August 8

Salvador: I saw you cuddling with Dahlia this morning.
Me: Yep.
Salvador: What’s up with that?
Me: She curled up next to me and wanted her belly rubbed, so I rubbed it.
Salvador: Traitor. Where’s MY belly rub?
Me: You didn’t jump up on the bed.
Salvador: Beds are for girls. Real dogs lay on the floor.
Me: Beds are pretty comfortable, Sal.
Salvador: So you’ll rub my belly tomorrow morning?
Me: If you jump up on the bed.
Salvador: Beds are for girls.
Me: I’m not going to lay on the floor, Sal.
Salvador: It’d be less weird.
Me: I’m not sure that’s possible.

August 9

Salvador: If you could pick just one, would you rather spend an evening with H. P. Lovecraft, August Derleth, or Ron Howard?
Me: Do you mean Robert E. Howard?
Salvador: You have your heroes. I have mine.

August 14

Salvador (at 3:00 am): Wake. Up. Very, very slowly.
Me: Salw, twake yur paww owf uff my mouff.
Salvador: Shhhhh. There’s a Bengal Tiger in the back yard.
Me: What!?!
Salvador: Shhhhhh!!!
Me: pwaw owf uff mouff.
Salvador: Be quiet! He’ll hear you!
Me: I don’t see anything.
Salvador: It was just there. It could be on the roof by now! It’s going to EAT us.
Me: Relax, Sal. I’ll check it out.

(Fifteen minutes later.)

Me: Back yard is tiger free, Sal. It was only a raccoon.
Salvador: Are you sure?!
Me: Yep.
Salvador: I wasn’t really scared, you know.
Me: Sure, Sal.
Salvador: I knew everything was okay.
Me: Uh-huh.
Salvador: This can just be our little secret, right?
Me: Go to sleep, Sal.

August 17

Salvador (at 3:00 am): You’re probably wondering why I wear a red collar. It’s so the bad guys can’t see me bleed. The mailman has the right idea. He wore the brown pants.
Me: Sal, I wish—
Salvador: Not Salvador. Call me… Dogpool.
Me: Batdog. Wooferine. And now Dogpool. Sal, you read too many comics.
Salvador: When things go bump in the night, I bump back.
Me: The only thing going bump in the night around here is you.
Salvador: I’m an artist. And an artist has to create.
Me: An artist? Oh, really?
Salvador: Life is my canvas, man, and awesome is my paint.

August 17

Salvador: Give me a fry.
Me: Try a little patience, buster. Good things come to those who wait.
Salvador: Better things come to those who grab and growl.

August 17

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Dahlia is into creature comforts.

August 18

Salvador: Out, out, out!!! Out, out, OUT!!!! You fascist! I want to go out!!!
Me: Salvador… it’s pouring down rain.
Salvador: OUT!!! OUT!!! OUT!!! A little rain never hurt no puppy.
Me: Said no couch, ever.

August 22

Salvador: Fascist. You’ve been holding out on me.
Me: What are you talking about?
Salvador: Why didn’t you tell me the “drive-thru” is a thing?!
Me: Sal, you know you are not supposed to take the car out without me….
Salvador: You just drive up and they hand you food out of the window. Out. Of. The. Window!
Me: That’s not exactly how it works.
Salvador: that’s how it worked tonight at McDonald’s, Burger King, Popeyes, and twice at Dairy Queen.
Me: Sal, what did you do?
Salvador: Well, among other things I discovered that I am lactose intolerant. That Dairy Queen ice creme really gets ya.
Me: Oh, Sal….
Salvador: I might be a little hard to live with tonight. Just F.Y.I.

September 3

<Knock knock>
Me: Come in.
Salvador: It’s me. What are you doing?
Me: I’m coding complex data types, Sal.
Salvador: I brought you a beer.
Me: If I drink the beer, I won’t be able to code the complex data types and earn the kibble.
Salvador: That’s why I drank it for you.
Me: Thanks, buddy. Real considerate.
Salvador: Thinking of you, man. Thinking of you.

September 4

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Yes, Dahlia. I smell pizza also. Yes, I’m sure it’s not yours.

September 5

Salvador: Dude. We gotta talk.
Me: What’s on your mind, buddy?
Salvador: That channel you left us watching. What was up with that? Horrid. So childish.
Me: It had cartoons. You know they keep Dahlia quiet.
Salvador: It wasn’t all bad. I did find out about one Mister Chuck E. Cheese. He runs a small dining establishment.
Me: Is that what they’re calling it?
Salvador: Apparently, Mickey isn’t the only mouse running a trap for humans.
Me: Nice.
Salvador: I want to go.
Me: Wha?!
Salvador: You’re my daddy. You have to take me.
Me: Sal….
Salvador: I’ll hold my breath.

September 6

Me: All I’m saying is that the game is called Whack-a-Mole for a reason.
Salvador: That’s what I was trying to do. Whack them.
Me: Sal, you ripped the top off of the machine and shredded the moles.
Salvador: What can I say? I’m a carnivore.
Me: The moles were filled with sawdust, Sal.
Salvador: Well, we know that now. You’re welcome.
Me: You destroyed the machine, Sal. And they’re going to want me to pay for it.
Salvador: In my defense, there was way more blood than I expected.
Me: That wasn’t blood, buddy. The manager panicked and threw a five-gallon bucket of pizza sauce on you to try to get you off of the moles.
Salvador: A decision I’m sure he regrets now, judging from the sounds of screaming children that followed.
Me: I don’t even know what kind of therapy those poor kids are going to need. You were foaming at the mouth.
Salvador: I get excited. Listen — those kids should thank me. There are two kinds of kids in the world: those who hunt their own food and those who eat out of the trash can.
Me: And those who get taken to Chuck E. Cheese. And get thrown out.
Salvador: It’s not like it was permanent or anything.
Me: They put your picture on the wall, Sal.
Salvador: Did it seem odd to you they had a wall for that sort of thing?
Me: Actually, yes. Most places don’t until after you’ve been there for the first time.

September 14

Salvador: My lawyers have been in negotiations with Mr. Charles Edward Cheese’s lawyers. They say I can come back. Just FYI.
Me: You don’t have lawyers, Sal.
Salvador: I might.
Me: Where did you get them?
Salvador. I found them. In the back yard. By the tree.
Me: You didn’t really find lawyers in the back yard, did you?
Salvador: I want to go to Chuck E. Cheese.
Me: No.
Salvador: The moles shall receive their comeuppance!

September 22

Salvador was outside for his morning constitutional when the garbage men came around this morning, so I had to bark at them myself. He’s right; it really is liberating.

September 25

Me: C’mon, Sal. You need to eat your breakfast.
Salvador: …
Me: I made it special for you. It’s your favorite!. Milk, kibble, and gravy!
Salvador: …
Me: At least take a look, Sal. You need to eat.
Salvador: …
Me: Are you sick? Do I need to take you to the vet?
Salvador: No. The Rottweilers next door called me short and fat.
Me: You’re not short and fat, Sal. You’re just the right size for you.
Salvador: How would you know? Were you ever called short and fat?
Me: Pretty much daily, from 1976 to 1988, inclusive. But… you know what? I’m too darn good looking to worry about what a bunch of mangy Rottweilers say.
Salvador: Really?
Me: Who caught the squirrel, Sal?
Salvador: I did.
Me: Who has all the pretty girls lining up to scratch your chin?
Salvador: I do.
Me: Who’s ready to eat his breakfast like a big boy?
Salvador: I’d feel better if we went to Chuck E. Cheese.

September 28

Salvador says it's bedtime. He can barely hold his head up.

Salvador says it’s bedtime. He can barely hold his head up.

September 29

Me: Hey, Sal. Check it out. My new shampoo is animal cruelty free and environmentally responsible. Plus, it’s made in the USA!
Salvador: Environmentally responsible? It says that right there on that little plastic bottle, does it?
Me: Well…. I’m sure the plastic is recyclable.
Salvador: Sucker.
Me: Plus, it’s completely free of preservatives, additives, dyes, and perfumes.
Salvador: Woo-hoo. You’re paying more for the ingredients they didn’t put in! Awesome.
Me: Hey — there is nothing wrong with simplifying and doing the right thing!
Salvador: You’d probably pay extra if they told you it was made by mirthful virgins paid a sustainable wage.
Me: Well, at least it’s animal cruelty free. I get all the animal cruelty I need from you.

September 29

Salvador: I have recently become aware of something we need to discuss.
Me: what’s that, Sal?
Salvador: Golden Corral.
Me: Uh-oh.
Salvador: I’ve had my cheap lawyers working in shifts to find a way to get me in.
Me: And?
Salvador: They say that legally they cannot keep a service dog out.
Me: We’ve tried that trick before. It never works. You get excited and blow it every time.
Salvador: I think it’s because you aren’t trying hard enough. Maybe if you fell down a lot.
Me: Isn’t a service dog supposed to keep that from happening?
Salvador: Hey! Don’t blame me for your shortcomings.