My dog's name is Sébastien. He's half Border Collie, so of course he's insane.
His insanity manifests itself artistically. Or at least, so I like to pretend.
It's his balls. No, not those balls. He's like a Disney cartoon. Even lying on his back with his legs spread, nothing shows. Very tasteful.
No, I'm talking about his other balls. Tennis balls, rubber balls, etc. He finds them and brings them home. And once he does, he does strange things with them.
He likes to organize things. He used to line them up on the window sill, but now they're arranged artistically around his dish. Note the Denta-stick propped up.
If this was the extent of it, that would be ok, but I'm afraid he's ventured into things (non-Dr.) Charles McVety would never approve of. It's true, you see. Same-sex marriage leads to inter-species sex. That's a kitten feeling up a bunny rabbit. And from the arrangement of the tennis balls, it's clear they're lesbians and he's giving a shout out to The L-Word.
It gets worse, I'm afraid.
He's set his sights on a new career working for that Canadian porn channel based in Ken Epp's home.
His plan? Choreographer for orgies.
Our Inaugural Tribute to the Unpresident - Sing along. It beats drowning your sorrows.
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