Cosmo: Well, all right, your man can talk the talk, I’ll grant you that.

But can he walk the walkies? I just got back from a 40-minute ramble–a

three-bagger! You wouldn’t believe the things you smell out here in the

burbs. But what would you know? You’re just a city dog living in a

well-nigh odorless apartment, your man slumped in front of the flickery box

all day. And WITH YOUR HEAD STUCK IN A COLLAR CONE! Arf! Arf! Arf! Some

of us are just born lucky, I guess.