This afternoon, I took a whole bunch of pictures of my 1880s-era floors to show to the producer of an upcoming segment I’m shooting for a wood refinishing company, and, per usual, my camera hog of a canine got in the way. It took physical restraint (in the form of collar-holding) before I could get a shot that didn’t include fur of any kind.
Which is fine by me, really; Virgil is so way cuter than my floors.
(P.S. I learned from The Art of Racing in the Rain that this pose means “pleasefortheloveofgodPLAYWITHME!”)
