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: I’m not going to see any steak, am I?
Me: you know, Sal,those “sad eyes” of yours would be much more convincing if you could stop giggling.
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?
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.
Salvador: I saw you cuddling with Dahlia this morning.
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.
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.
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: 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?!
Salvador: I wasn’t really scared, you know.
Me: Sure, Sal.
Salvador: I knew everything was okay.
Salvador: This can just be our little secret, right?
Me: Go to sleep, Sal.
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.
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.
Dahlia is into creature comforts.
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.
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.
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.
Yes, Dahlia. I smell pizza also. Yes, I’m sure it’s not yours.
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.
Salvador: I want to go.
Salvador: You’re my daddy. You have to take me.
Salvador: I’ll hold my breath.
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.
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.
Salvador: The moles shall receive their comeuppance!
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.
Me: C’mon, Sal. You need to eat your breakfast.
Me: I made it special for you. It’s your favorite!. Milk, kibble, and gravy!
Me: At least take a look, Sal. You need to eat.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Salvador: I have recently become aware of something we need to discuss.
Me: what’s that, Sal?
Salvador: Golden Corral.
Salvador: I’ve had my cheap lawyers working in shifts to find a way to get me in.
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.