Pleading with Chewie not to thank me after every meal by licking my face, and leaving it smelling like his dry food.
Me: What if a super hot model walks in the door, and wants to lick my face? What’ll she think if it smells of your food?
Partner (translating Chewie’s squirms): Why would you want a super model who doesn’t like the smell of a dog?
Me: No, she loves dogs, and will think I’m eating his food! He’s thin enough to convince anyone he’s starving, and my face smells of his food!
Partner, whom I constantly harass to let me increase Chewie’s food: *Bugger off both of you*
I’ll record this as a win.