Ruby: You know. If he wasn’t so feral sometimes, we wouldn’t have to sit here in the wind and wait. This happens a lot. We wait. It reminds of when I marched at Little Bighorn.

Otterpop: I think bad dogs should go on leashes. Nice sturdy airline cable ones. With weights on the ends. Really heavy weights. Made of dough. Big, fat, yeasty dough balls the size of that hamster ball they killed Snooki in and bad dogs should need to drag these wherever they go. Through sludge. Dead Snooki sludge. And radioactive robot filings. And nails. With broken glass. And patchouli. And octopi. That’d teach him. Oh wait. And the whole thing would be filled with shampoo. Bubbling, ubbling, oozing, eye burning, lemon scented shampoo. No wait. Not lemon. Australian. The kind that smells like Australia. Hah! In the dough!

Gustavo: Did ya see it? Over there? Guys, see it?

Gustavo: OUUTTA HERE!

Otterpop: You stupid bitch.

Ruby: (Shivering. Also concerned Otterpop has now violated the fourth wall.)

Otterpop: Can you just tie him to a goddamn rope? Huh? Is too much to ask?

Gustavo: Hola! At attention!

Ruby: I’m so cold my tongue is expanding. Did you bring my meds? Just a hit. A little hit. Just one. Fixes my tongue?

Gustavo: (He doesn’t have the words for this, but if you are Miss Latifah, Dog Psychic, you could totally read his mind right now. In his mind, clearly spelled out in letters made of tiny little walrus dolls in sailor suits, it says, GRASSES!)

(You cannot see this, except if you are Miss Latifah, Dog Psychic but my arm has now grabbed his legs. I am not letting him go. I am wearing socks with the ends cut off with safety scissors over my hands. And little slits cut out for my thumbs. I could not bear to give these out for Christmas, so I wear them to dog catch.)

Gustavo: Was running. Was running. Am stopped now. Very sad.