Bike season is beginning. Therefore, these conversations have begun:

Gilly: STARVING

Me: Really? It’s 4:48. Can you wait 12 minutes?

Gilly: STARVING STARVING STARVING STARVING

Me: Why so starving, friend?

Gilly: RAN 6,000 MILES AT 200 MILES PER HOUR

Me: Wow. That’s impressive for a dog of your age. I thought the odometer said 2.2 miles at 7MPH.

Gilly: ODOMETER LIES ALL AVAILABLE CALORIES BURNED SOUND BARRIER BROKEN MUSCLE MASS AND SKELETAL INTEGRITY BREAKING DOWN NEXT I CAN FEEL IT STAAARRRRVING TOO WEAK TO STAND LOOK I FELL OVER ON MY HEAD FROM FAINT HALP HALP I’M BEING NEGLECT

Me: I guess we’d better fix supper then.

Gilly: *breaking the speed of light, hauls ass up to the kitchen & parks it by bowl*

Gilly: I NEED EXTRA

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