Not sure Steve can top cat scat consumption. However, I did catch him scurrying about the living room the other day trying to conceal one of his own inappropriately shat nuggets, IN HIS MOUTH. It takes a special dog to be Steve. Thankfully for Steve and me, he’s up to the task.

This is perhaps the funniest concept I have seen in I don’t know how long. I applaud your ingenuity and Steve’s ability to stand still while others creatively alter his image without the benefit of mind-inducing drugs (at least, on my part).

I will coerce my daughter, a veritable whiz at and fool for Photoshopping, to faux-render my submission later this week after she has beaten her self-esteem to a bloody pulp with this year’s weapon of choice, four AP exams. (Acne is SO 2006.)

Admiringly yours,

CP

P.S. My chihuahua Petey eats cat scat. Top THAT, Steve.

Wow, this is nothing short of amazing. I wish I was a Photoshop monger: I’d cancel Mother’s Day brunch– or just not show up– and spend the next six hours morphing yer dog. Okay, twelve.
Alas, I’m not. I’m only a songwriter, so maybe I’ll just have to write a song about him. Don’t laugh, my aunt’s cat Esmerelda got a song out of me, and she’s a bitch, so it’s not about entitlement. Good luck with Steve, and all his artistic renditions.
As for my expressionism, you can check out some of my scrawlings at the myspace blog– come to think of it, as of this writing, I don’t think anyone ever has. You might like “Soot: An Addict’s Cantata”; it’s something Dr. Seuss might’ve composed, had he had our addictive affliction.
Sent the CD out yesterday, you should get it tomorrow.

Peace,
JD