Pooch Cafe by Paul Gilligan for February 05, 2015

Transcript:

Poncho: There's my "home." What a hollow travesty, now that I've found out my "master" is a delivery man. Poncho: The air feels like dust in my nostrils. The carpet is like thorns on my feet. Poncho: These pictures all seem to mock me. Poncho: The food… Still tastes pretty good. You can't really undermine food.