I’d like to post more pictures of my dog and please my audience. You all seem to like him. His debut post got more hits than any of the other stupid posts I put up. So, I figure, give ’em what they want, right?
I know, I understand, I get it. He is cute. I’ve had complete strangers stop me in the street and say: “Such a handsome dog!” – while they are driving.
Yes, it’s true. I have to be careful walking down the street with him, because I never know when someone is gonna pull over and compliment my dog.
So, like I said, I could post more pictures and allow him to bask in your undivided attention.
But, well, that would be cheating, now wouldn’t it? Cheating me of your attention. Geez. The dog is more exciting than anything I write. I can’t even entice readers with a blow-by-blow account of my novel writing endeavor. Railing against the system didn’t work (see my other blog: clear reality), and now it seems pictures of my dog out-compete any of my fiction. This would be completely depressing if he wasn’t my dog.