Hector fell sweating on the drawing room sofa, his body twitching in pain with the first signs of the transformation to come. In an hour the full moon would be high over London, and he would once again roam the city’s dimly-lit streets in the form of a hideous canine beast, driven by ancient instinct to stalk innocent young maidens and stare at them through unblinking eyes until they ran in terror. Thus was Hector Pudwillow cursed to become the fiend known as… The Were-maraner!
Murray C. bringing the cute weirdness or the weird cuteness.
Privacy thigh.
And privacy butt.
I was avoiding that.
That really is kind of scary.
Really, if I saw that Were-maraner, I’d quickly and quietly get away.
…is he wearing a crop top?
thought it was a towel but think it’s just a blanket by the edging.
It’s what all the stylish weremaraners are wereing this season.
I thought so too, but I see blanket going down his back. At first I didn’t understand that wasn’t the *guy’s* crop top! Just for a sec!
Or…the dog could have on some kind of warming top that covers the chest and on top goes over the back? Inquiring minds…
Bwaaa haaa haaa. Perfect story to go with the perfectly timed weird photo.
Unfortunately Lee Ho Fooks in London closed a few years ago so he’ll have to find some beef chow mein somewhere else.
Damm! Yaa!