Parker hung out with my friends and me at Tommy Nevin's on Sunday to catch the seisiún. One friend brought him a belated birthday present, a squeakie shaped like a vet (complete with "Vet Victim" name tag); Parker had removed half the stuffing and the squeak bladder before we finished our crisps.
One of the rules at the pub is that dogs have to stay on the patio. It actually got a bit chilly, so we humans to a table just inside the line of demarcation. Parker kept testing the pub's defenses:
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Watch Parker, um, sleep whenever I remember to point the camera at him. Updated every 60 seconds.
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