It’s day five of this never-ending bloggy dog-themed death march. I know you’re tired of reading them, but it’s half done, so buck up. Skippy! Today’s pooch is Frasier’s father’s dog, Eddie.
Here’s a little something to think about: There’s a guy. A regular working stiff, a cop actually. Somehow he has two brainiac intellectual snobs for sons, maybe because he gave them snooty, Ivy League names. He named one “Frasier” and the other one “Niles”. Niles?! Fer Chrissakes! You named a kid Niles?! How did you expect he’d turn out?
Makes me wonder who it really was who shot you in your ass, old timer.
The years proved maybe it’s possible to teach an old dog new tricks.
He got himself a hot British physical therapist and an adorable Jack Russell terrier. He had the good sense to name the dog “Eddie”.
At least I’m not the only knucklehead doing this. Having the rest of these folks along for the ride makes me feel a little less self conscious:
1 Point Perspective – You’re clearly on the fence as to whether or not to christen me a creative genius. This old post will help tip the scales either way.