Fred Does New York, Part Two

We shot this on the couch here where they are putting us up at Central Park West. It's hot in this city! This was our attempt to make a short but completely boring movie for those who can't get to sleep at work.

What, you don't nap at work? For shame. Humping Dogs always rest between jobs.

I can't wait until Hotweir, my owner, gets back his writing voice and removes me from this stupid role! What's the matter with him? These days, he seems overtaken by a strange spirit, leaving him remote and passive. Frankly, I'm a bit concerned about him, but you know us dogs, we always worry.

After all, if your owner suddenly keels over and dies, or goes crazy and gets carted away, or drowns in a hurricane, who's gonna feed you, huh? Think about all those dogs in New Orleans and Mississippi after Katrina. They got separated from their owners; their owners died or fled, and they had no choice but to become feral.

Am I using that word correctly? Can dogs become feral or is it only cats? I'm thinking that maybe when we dogs revert to a pre-domesticated state they just call us wild dogs.

How smart or stupid are domesticated horses, anyway? There were so many smelly horses in southern Central Park today, I was frankly disgusted. With our superior sense of smell, dogs do not appreciate horses and I gather the feelings are mutual.

What a nasty tradition, these wagons being pulled by horses and stinking up the city. Why do they do it? We would never do this in Japan, where I was bought. Or, for that matter, in China, where I was most probably created.

Note: This just in. Hotweir is rumored to be returning to this space imminantly.

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