Sometimes on Saturday we like to gnaw ourselves into such a Chew Trance that the
only thing to bring us back into this dimension is the sound of the Greenies package opening and every time this mystical scenario happens we freeze with joy because we simply cannot believe the limitless quality of our glorious bounty.
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The only thing that gets Harry out of his pacifer-trance is when I open the dishwasher door. No matter how deep in trance he is, deeper than the Dead Heads during the guitar jams, he bolts to the dishwasher and gives it his famous pre-rinse.
Sometimes I actually worry that Cooper is going to have a heart attack when I give him or say or look toward the Greenies bag.
Greenies, I presume, are some kind of dog treat?
Greenies are definitely the gold standard for dog treats. That Greenie bag is why my dog wants to grow opposable thumbs.
Yes Bruce Greenies are like the crystal meth of dog treats. Cooper has LASER focus when he thinks anyone is within 10 feet of where we keep them but I don't want to talk about that now because I think Cooper knows what I'm typing.
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