I’m sorry, but you’ve clearly never met my retired English pointer field trial bird dog.

He’ll steal my coffee in a heartbeat if I don’t keep a sharp eye out in the morning. He’ll steal my damn beer too.

Fortunately for me, I have good taste in beer, and he likes Budweiser. Since he won’t drink my New England hazy IPA or even my Founders Centennial, I can mostly relax around him with a brew.

Mostly. He’s fickle.

I guess there goes my idea of hiring him out as an editorial assistant. Not that it would work out anyway. His vocabulary is atrocious, he swears like a fucking sailor, and his laptop skills are questionable at best.

He’s damn good at taking naps, though.