weequaypirates:

me carrying my little dog to the front door swaddled in my arms like a baby, because he has to pee before bed but refuses to walk outside while its raining so i have to drop him gently into the grass, bouncing him a little as i walk and chanting in a singsong voice: you smell like chicken soup! yes you do! yes you do. who’s my little chicken soup dog? who is he? who is the dog who smells like chicken soup

my dog, fully uncomprehending but nonetheless resigned to his fate: