I have a bloodhound named Dwarf. He's four years old. Every other morning I hold Dwarf down with my elbow and dangle a piece of bacon from my breakfast in front of his face, just close enough so he can smell it but he can't eat it, and then I eat it right in front of his face, and then I laugh and laugh. No bacon for Dwarf.
I used to have a female bloodhound but she ran away after chewing through the screen door. The breeder kept calling the dog one of the bitches of the litter. I said she looked more like a cunt to me. I named her Cunt. Sometimes when Cunt was sleeping, I used to stick my fingers in her nostriles to see how long it would take her to realize she was not breathing and wake up. Sometimes it took five minutes. She would get up and walk away to find a different spot to sleep, and I would laugh and laugh.