ME: Here we are! Sunny Florida!
Ok, so maybe this isn’t that bad.
GORDON LABRADOODLE: Whew, that ride was brutal I — wait, what the hell is this?
ME: It’s Florida! Isn’t it great?
GORDON: Great? It’s like 1000 degrees here! Are you telling me we left home, where it is a perfect 32 degrees, and drove 15 hours to get to this hell hole?
ME: It’s 75 here. It’s perfect.
GORDON: Ah, no, Miss “I’m Not Wearing a Full Fur Coat.” This is terrible. I think I’m dying… I’m dying…
ME: You’re not dying. You’ll love it. We’re going to go to see Nonny and Nanny and Pop Pop, and go to the beach…
GORDON: (Snaps head in my direction) Stop saying words I know. That’s what got my nose pressed against the air vent for 15 hours in the first place. “Want take a ride in the car?” you said. What was I supposed to do? NOT JUMP IN THE CAR???
ME: I don’t know why car rides get you so excited. They’re almost always to the vet.
GORDON: Next thing I know you’ll be saying “treat” and I’ll end up someplace where there are giant reptiles that can eat me or something ridiculous.
ME: Treat.
GORDON: (Snaps head in my direction) Where?!
ME: No. Not really. But there are giant reptiles that can eat you here. And giant cats.
GORDON: You are a sick, sick woman.
ME: Look! Here comes Nonny now!
GORDON: Oh no. What is that?!
ME: Nonny?
GORDON: No, I know her. She’s soft and she feeds me when you’re not looking. I love that bitch. I’m talking about that thing next to her.
ME: That’s her dog, Izzy. You remember Izzy don’t you?
GORDON: *sniffs* NO! You’re kidding me! I hate that bitch!
ME: You really shouldn’t call people bitches.
GORDON: What? She’s female isn’t she?
ME: Well, yeah, I guess…
GORDON: This is going to be the worst vacation ever.
ME: You want to go inside and get a treat?
GORDON: What? Hell yeah! Whoo whoo!! Gimmee!
(follows me wherever I lead)