Meet Creak

Hey, watch where you're going, you little bastard. This smile doesn't mean I like you right now. And you can't make it up to me by patting my head and saying something because I don't know what you're saying and it hurts when you pat my head. And while we're on the subject, tell your mother to stop waxing the floor. It's hard enough to stand up as it is. Who do I look like, Brian Boitano?

Now, lets talk about the food dish. Exactly why is it on the floor? Do you like watching me put all my weight on my front legs and stretch my neck down to eat? Is that fun for you? Well keep doing it and I'll keep farting. Yes, the two are connected. Except during dinner with the Cox's. That wasn't me and you should have known that was a pizza fart from Bart Cox. God any fool could have seen him lean over in his chair just before the fog engulfed the room. And you blamed me. What am I, your arthritic scape-goat-dog? I take the flack as well as the flatulence and I'm supposed to smile.

Hey, come here. Yes. scratch me right here behind my ear. Yes. There. You know, sometimes humans can make a dog's blood pressure go down just by petting him. Now my stomach, and rub my legs the way the vet said. She knows. That's right. Thanks. Here's a lick. Going to take a nap now.