muzzle.

crabtree doesn't give any F*s.
he does, however, bequeath all of his sh!ts upon my premises.
it's a fair trade.
at least,
it is when you look at it through his triangular eyes.
where does he hang out when we're on our way to be social?
huh?
he hangs out upside down and in the way:

obvi.
shark-bullets aren't bound by your comfort, neighbors.
and apparently, their concept of lesiure is entirely subjective-
yeah.
but, anyway,
i now have to be way more social,
so that he will be more social,
so that we can live a happy and successful life together.
hmmm?
i know.
it surely does suck a big ol' batch of balls,
hangin' out and interacting with friendly strangers,
all of whom are suddenly so flippin' excited to see us.
damn.
they never reacted like that when i was out sans crabman.
i'm just sayin'.
but,
rules is rules,
and there's nothing for it except to smile,
and allow molto time for actin' nicey-nice.
i've got the clicker for training 'em up right,
and i've got a pocketful of treats for rewarding positive actions.
we're out and about,
and we're making ourselves accessible to your faces.
this is a whole new thing for me,
and while i can't say i enjoy it,
i do know a little something about enduring things i don't like.
it seems like that's the real lesson here:
life is a hard style, and fighting through it is better than giving up.
ugh.
wrenches are forever the tool of choice;
never quiet, never soft.....