This could be The Dog when he comes to burp in my face after he has eaten his twice daily "nourishments" of all-meat canned dog-food mixed with the icky dry stuff.
Or... it could be when he is fed up from napping on either of his two luxurious wool-batting beds... one up & one down... and is decided to immediately drag me outdoors to sniff the Siberian airs pummeling our Italian nation at the moment.
But then... the odds on likelihood is, The Dog just wants another piece of bread. Like there is an unspoken quota on The Dog's part for b-r-e-a-d, which does not correspond to any idea of The Short-person's. Here is our brief scene...
The Short-person... STOP bothering me, Moses!!!
Me... He wants a T-r-e-a-t.
The Short-person... YOU HAVE SPOILED THAT ANIMAL!!!
Me... I beg your pardon? Animal? Moses is A Dog. And, much like you, who comes home & wants his dinner post-haste, The Dog has his dietary needs too which, much like his Supreme Master, follow a strict carbo in-take.
The Short-person... Well, Thank God, you don't lick me for a plate of pasta!!!
Me... Well, I would but, I'd have to stop drinking this excellent Tigullio red wine you brought me.
Gads.
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