The cast:
Me: Me. Aka "the human", "the minion", or to a certain muttskie, "the humom of epic proportions"
Mina: The 9.5 year old sassy pit bull who adores bossing her minion around.
Celeste: The muttskie of doom was missing in action, having decided to converse intently with a house plant.
This is a pictorial essay. Well, if two pictures qualify.
Me: Um, Mina? What on earth are you doing?Mina: Isn't it obvious, minion? I am practicing the fine art of bug-elimination. I have discovered if I simply open my mouth wide, pretending to yawn, that hapless insects will just buzz right in. If you would perhaps feed me enough, I wouldn't have to resort to such un-ladylike behavior.
Me: Mina, I feed you a pound of food a day, plus treats, plus you take it upon yourself to mow the lawn like you were a ruminating herbivore.
Mina: Pshaw, yeah but you have two pounds of food rightfully mine that you share with the muttskie who's currently waxing eloquent with a plant. Then you have the nerve to get the lawn mowed. How can I possibly thrive in such a hostile environment? Thus, I supplement.
Me: With bugs?
Mina: With bugs.
Me: That's pretty tragic. Hey. Wait a second. What are you doing? Are you giving me the look? Don't you turn your head away from me, missy!
Mina: *grand sigh* It is just so very difficult to be me. I try to convey my hunger, my state of starvation, yet you plea ignorance. I stare, whine, moan and share with you the fact that I must have a wasting away disease that could be cured with food. Yet you persist in pretending that I'm fine, in perfect shape, just grand. Thus, I must be woeful, angsty and as emo as is sufficiently possible with my adorably good looks.
Me: Fine. Here's a cookie.
Mina: *stares*
Me: Okay, five. But that's it.
Mina: You are indeed a worthy minion. You could aspire to even greater heights of worthinosity if you would do something about that muttskie.
Me: No.
Mina: Fine, we'll talk about it another time.
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