I was trying to play with Henry this morning, and he was shamelessly, relentlessly, embarrassingly posing for the camera. I’d go in for the jugular. He’d turn toward the camera. I’d pounce on him. He’d crane for the camera. I’d nip, jab, poke, and stab. He’d turn his doe eyes at the camera. Apparently, he’s been told he’s handsome, debonair, beautiful and regal. I don’t know. He’s being boring right now. Camera, shamera. Play! I’m trying to perfect my vampire neck biting moves, my bouncy pouncy moves, my 180-hip hop jab, my Ollie special. I want to be on Doggie Wrestlemania. I am feeling the mania. The crowd. The roars. The cheers. The jeers. The drool. I’m dreaming of being in the ring. The stare down. The take down. The push down. The pounce down. The bouncy down. Henry is not feeling this at all. None of it. He’s thinking about the camera. His perfect face. His perfect fur. His perfect teeth. I’m thinking he’s dreaming of being The Doggie Bachelor.
More Ollie and other dog photos may be seen at annechadwickwilliams.com
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