He snaps his claws together with bitter anguish, wishing for a more dexterous tool. A crustaceous Edward Scissorhands, his handshakes are never appreciated.
He was always bumping in to people in the street because he insisted on walking sideways and after all this stress, if things went badly, he might end up in one of those restaurant tanks like his cousin Barry.
It was a tough life.
At least there was always a castle to visit if he got bored…
Oh how he wished to be a sharpie… those guys were so cool, with their ever lasting ink. His work could be brushed away with a simple rubber.
“it’s what’s inside that counts” His mother had always said, completely unaware of the irony. His grandfather had been Shakespeare’s pencil. He was just downright average. He just didn’t have the creativity of the rest of his family.
Bernard has been asked to stay.
His final challenge of obedience school, Bernard must make a dangerous choice.
Does Bernard want the unconditional compassion of his loving family
or the plate of cookies he is being tempted with.
The final test.
The family tense.
Bernard’s dog mind slowly clunks.
Bernard inches forward.
I love St. Bernards. I mean look at their stupid lovable faces.