I often have to say to The Dog... when Moral Uplift & Verbal Reward are called for...
that he is such a... splendore!!! This is Italian for "splendor" and it is pronounced as... splen-door-r-r-r-ay.
Right now, The Dog has sniffed some schifezze... or, filthinesses, if that is a real word... provoking a series of night-time attacks of the trots. Out we would trot at 4:11AM & again at 6:42AM to allow The Dog to desperately grace some unsuspecting bush or grassy plot with his scariche... or, dumps, runny as they were. After the second trip, Moral Uplift had NOT DONE the trick. Shortly thereafter, a pill was forced down his Weimaraner gullet to solidify what needs to be solidified. The Dog, worn out from his nocturnal escapades, is schleeping... or sleeping. I could do with a nap myself. Gads.
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