You might think this is the look of love. It’s not.
It is the look of a bulldog who seconds ago was fast asleep upstairs—his nose buried deep in a pile of stinky teenager laundry—when a human hand lightly brushed against a plastic pail kept in a kitchen cupboard, causing said bulldog to launch himself free of gym socks and boxer shorts, hurl himself downstairs, skid across the living room floor and slide into the kitchen/family room.
Behold, O Dog Owner, the only thing greater than yourself—in your dog’s opinion, anyway:
I’m telling you, if Timmy’s mom had a bucket of these babies in the house when it caught on fire, Lassie would’ve dragged it out first and that would’ve been the end of the television series.
Hubby uses the treats to try to help Mojo learn some self control around food. I say good luck with that. When it comes to liver treats and our bulldog, there is no self control; there are only massive puddles of drool all over our laminate flooring.
MOJO: He’s headed for the cupboard! He’s—YES! LIVER TREATS LIVER TREATS LIVER TREATS LIVER TREATS LIVER TREATS LIVER TREATS LIVER TREATS LIVER TREATS…
HUBBY (puts treat on floor) Mojo, sit!
MOJO: Hooray! (lunges at treat)
HUBBY: NO! SIT!
MOJO: Sit?! But a liver treat IS ON THE FLOOR!
MOJO: It moved! (lunges)
MOJO: It moved again! (lunges)
MOJO: It’s running away! (lunges)
MOJO: It’s escaping! (lunges)