That’s DJ Marmie on turntable, DJ OtherMarmie on other turntable, and DJ OtherOtherMarmie on the Phatbeatdownator 3000.
Yes, kids, it’s Captain Ameripup! That dashing doggie defender of decency!
… and his loyal sidekick, Dorky!
Good morning, assorted trespassers and ruffians. My name is Mrs. Flapnacht, and I’ll be guarding the house today. Now, just because the regular dog is out sick, that doesn’t mean you can march in here and take things! I am every bit as vicious as she is! I’ve got massive fangs, and razor-sharp claws two inches long, and… all right, who am I kidding here, the flat-screen TV’s just down the hall, help yourself.
Via Gerry Thomasen.
I don’t understand it. I crept in all quiet-like — y’know, little cat feet and all that — found what seemed like the perfect hiding place, and yet they spotted me right away! Where did I go wrong?
Via Peter Rowley.
I was just saying to myself (awm nawm nawm), I wonder where all the other cats are? (crunch, munch) And here we are, just us cats! (slurp, smack) So whatcha guys doing? Cat stuff, am I right? (burp) You know I love it!
In this long-awaited sequel, professional furtographer “Mutt” Muffries becomes suspicious of a neighbor Rottweiler burying an unusually large amount of bones in his backyard.
Via La Guisla amagada.
I even appreciate how you sewed my name onto them, but I’m still not wearing them.
Via Alison Benbow.
“Sir, I pulled you over for doing 70 yards in a 55-yard-per-hour zone. (sniff, sniff) Is that illegal catnip I smell, sir? I’m going to have to ask you to open the back of the van, sir…”
“Trevor.” says Flickr-er
I’m just limp as a noodle. Every day on the colander feels strainer and strainer. Oh well, I’ll just pasta time away here.
Via Russell Bernice.
Hath not a Mew eyes? Hath not a Mew paws, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, whiskers? If you prick us, do we not whap? If you tickle us, do we not look annoyed? If you… actually, this is all just a roundabout way of asking: Are we having ham for dinner?