It’s a hot, hazy August weekend. Time to laze around and reflect on some reflection-worthy reflectivity.

Dogs only have four legs because five would be aesthetically unpleasing.

If six bits of kibble became four, that’s because I ate thirteen of them.

Can one turn wags on and off at will, or is it an involuntary expression of joy?

If the the earth orbited the sun once each day, but turned on its axis once a year, how many dog years in an hour?

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