Merlot Desmond Baker lives in Melbourne with his parents, my best friends Arthur and Bron. He is a rottweiler/German Shepherd cross, around seven years old (he's ex-RSPCA, so exact ages are a matter for conjecture), and displays a definite a fondness for spaghetti bolognese. Merlot greatly enjoys his visits from his Uncle Angus, and indeed expects to be walked, fed, allowed to sleep on the bed and paid attention to generally on a regular basis when this happens (which is often). He is regularly told how handsome he looks by complete strangers in off-the-leash parks, except for the small percentage who find his appearance terrifying.
"Have you got any Schmackos? I'm very cute."
"Stop blinding me with that flash."
Relaxing after destroying his Christmas present.
Merlot's brain goes into a slow meltdown.
Dog seeks out people. Notice the sign.
Merlot tries to outstare his Uncle Angus.
Merlot just knows there is food on the other side of the door.